


Sleeping Arrangements

by Fairia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Kosmo ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:02:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21981847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fairia/pseuds/Fairia
Summary: Shiro has a theory about pack protection. Hunk thinks Kosmo is Lassie; Lance thinks he'sSpaceLassie, thank you very much. Matt is annoyed, Pidge is exasperated, and Keith is sure he's in it for the chicken. The rest of the crew is placing bets, and Kosmo? Well, he's not talking but it definitely has something to do with his preferred Sleeping Arrangements.
Relationships: Keith/Pidge (Voltron), Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 31
Kudos: 243





	Sleeping Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> Once Upon A Time, in the KidgeonPost discord server, Malaya said "wouldn't it be funny if Kosmo kept dumping Pidge in Keith's bed?" Months later, as I was trolling for people's headcanons for Christmas gift drabbles, I happened upon it and went "this would be a cute drabble."
> 
> Except I apparently can't drabble, and here we are.
> 
> Massive, epic THANKS to Kidge-Kat who proof-read and edited all 45 pages of The Drabble That Failed.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-1-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Has anyone seen Pidge?”

Keith twisted in his seat to peer at Hunk, who was leaning through the doorway. “Not recently.”

“Were you supposed to meet her somewhere?” Shiro asked from across the table. 

“Eh,” Hunk waggled his hand back and forth in so-so gesture. “Not really. I found her tools scattered around, but she wasn’t with them. I thought she might have nodded off somewhere, but if she has, I can’t find her.”

One of Pidge’s truly spectacular and (in Keith’s opinion) completely under-appreciated talents, was her ability to fall asleep practically anywhere except her bed. They’d found her slumped over keyboards and sprawled across furniture, drooling over a workbench or on the floor before finding her near where she was _supposed_ to be. More notably, they’d found her _underneath_ furniture, wedged into crawl spaces or buried under spare parts just as often.

“Have you checked her lion?” Shiro asked curiously. 

“Closed.” Hunk frowned. 

Next to him, Kosmo picked his head up, offering a short bark before disappearing in a flash that had everyone reflexively shutting their eyes.

“Did...he go to get Pidge?” Hunk asked tentatively. 

Keith shrugged. “Maybe?”

Kosmo obligingly reappeared in another flash, tail wagging as he looked at Keith with Pidge sitting slumped against him, blinking blearily.

“Wha—?” 

“Good boy,” Hunk praised, rubbing Kosmo between his ears as he lifted Pidge to her feet. “Come on, Pidge, time for bed.”

“But,” Pidge stumbled a little, head swiveling in confusion, “I was….busy?”

“It can wait.” Hunk said, steering her towards the door; the last thing Keith heard before it shut behind them was Pidge's confused question of ‘ _How did I get in the lounge?_ ’

Kosmo watched them go, then turned to stare back at Keith. “Great job, buddy,” Keith praised obligingly, offering him a piece of the cookie he’d been munching on. 

Kosmo regarded the cookie for a moment before taking it in his teeth and slumping back to the floor with a sigh.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-2-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Has anybody seen Pidge?” Matt asked, glancing around the chow hall.

“Um.” Keith looked around, searching for the spot of green in a sea of orange and grey that made up most of the _Atlas_ crew. “No?”

“I swear, I’m going to put a tracker on that girl,” Lance grumbled into his tray.

Kosmo looked up from his own bowl, staring at Keith. Keith stared back at the dog. “I’m not giving you my chicken.”

Kosmo grumbled and nudged his hand. 

“Still not giving you my chicken,” Keith replied. Kosmo’s ears flicked backwards and he flashed out of sight.

“Does he do that often?” Matt asked, lowering his hand and blinking.

“Teleport, or demand chicken?” Keith asked, just as Kosmo reappeared, Pidge’s pant leg in his mouth, along with the girl wearing them. He dropped it and looked back at Keith, tongue lolling happily. 

“Holy cow, you have a search dog!” Lance exclaimed.

“That is a pretty good trick,” Matt agreed, tossing Kosmo a piece of his dinner.

“Alright, yeah, I guess you can have some chicken,” Keith agreed, nodding as he handed the wolf a bite. 

“What the hell is going on?” Pidge demanded, scowling up at them from where she lay sprawled out on the chow hall floor. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-3-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Has anyone seen Pidge?” Allura asked. Behind her, Romelle nodded enthusiastically. 

“I saw her in the lab about an hour ago,” Hunk offered.

“We ate dinner together,” Keith said with a shrug. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason, really,” Allura shifted her weight from one foot to the other absently, and Keith’s eyes narrowed at the nervous gesture, “we just wanted to have a bit of a...girl’s night.”

“A what?”

“Girl’s night!” Romelle beamed. “Veronica and Nadia were telling us all about them — they sound quite fun! We’re going to watch movies and braid hair, and maybe have a pillow fight!”

“Veronica has nail polish,” Allura said. “And something called a ‘ _mud pack_ ’ for us to try.”

Keith tried to picture Pidge doing _any_ of those things. “And you want Pidge to do this?”

“Well, we didn’t think she’d _mind_ …” Allura hedged.

“We figured that if we could lure her in with pizza and lock the door, she couldn’t say no.” Romelle beamed guilelessly, then turned to Shiro, who was walking in the door. “Shiro! Have you seen Pidge?”

“She’s in the third floor hanger,” Shiro replied, ignoring Keith’s frantic head-shaking.

Allura pursed her lips at Keith, then turned to smile at Shiro. “Thank you!” she beamed.

Keith groaned and dropped his head in his hands as the two Alteans hustled out of the room. 

“Oh man,” Hunk grimaced, “Somebody needs to go warn her.”

Shiro blinked in confusion. “What?”

“It’s a trap!” Keith waved his arms in the general direction Allura and Romelle had disappeared in. “We’ve got to find Pidge before they do!”

Next to him, Kosmo gave a little yip and disappeared.

_“What?”_ Shiro demanded.

_“Ahh!”_ Pidge’s butt hit the floor with a thump, wrench flying from her hand as she and Kosmo teleported into the room. Kosmo looked at Keith, ears perked.

“I am totally renaming your dog ‘ _Lassie_ ,’” Hunk said enthusiastically. 

_“What the hell?”_ Pidge rolled to her feet, glaring at Kosmo, then around the room. “Seriously, _what_ is this all about?”

“Kosmo saved you!” Hunk beamed.

“Allura and Romelle are looking for you,” Keith said. “They want to braid your hair.”

“They want to _what?_ ” Pidge asked, exasperated.

“It’s a trap,” Hunk added helpfully.

Pidge stared at him. “Okay Admiral Ackbar,” she huffed, turning and storming out. Kosmo whined as he watched her go.

“We tried to warn her,” Hunk sighed mournfully. 

Keith nodded sympathetically and pulled a treat out of his pocket for Kosmo. “It’s okay boy, you tried,” he consoled the dog soothingly.

“I am so confused,” Shiro announced.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-4-=-=-=-=-=-

An hour later, Keith was sitting in his quarters when Kosmo appeared with Pidge clutching desperately to his fur. “It was a trap!” She gasped.

Keith spun in his chair, turning from the computer to take in the sight of Pidge with her hair sticking up at odd angles and colored mud smeared across her face, and burst out laughing.

“Shut up,” Pidge whined, scowling at him as she patted Kosmo gratefully. “You could have warned me!”

“We tried,” Keith said, grinning. “What the heck did they even do to you?”

“They said pizza and video games!” Pidge squawked, arms flailing. “Then they _locked the door!”_

“Good save, Kosmo,” Keith praised the dog, then turned back to Pidge. “Was it really _that_ bad?”

“Are you kidding me?” Pidge huffed, shoving a hand in his face to show him smeared nail polish. “First, Romelle is a child who, though lovable, _cannot_ color inside the lines. And Allura? Isn’t that much better.”

“So they trapped you and tried to do girly things?” Keith asked, amused. “And failed?”

“They wanted to gossip about boys,” Pidge deadpanned. “And watch romantic comedies.”

Keith sniggered. “Sounds like they were going for the full high school experience.”

“High school was hell,” Pidge said adamantly, tugging a rubber band out of her hair with a wince, “and I’m not keen on revisiting it.”

“You know they’re going to come looking for you,” Keith pointed out.

Pidge grimaced. “And seeing as Kosmo kidnapped me _literally_ from right in front of them, they know exactly where to go.” 

“You could ask Kosmo to take you somewhere?” Keith suggested. They both turned to look at Kosmo, who was now curled up at the foot of Keith’s bunk, watching them.

“Kosmo?” Pidge asked. “Could you take me to my room?”

Kosmo’s ears perked up at his name.

“I’ll give you a cookie,” Pige added.

Kosmo’s tail thumped, but he didn’t otherwise move.

“He prefers chicken,” Keith said helpfully.

“I will totally get you your _own_ piece of chicken next time we’re in the chow hall,” Pidge promised.

Kosmo’s tail hit the bed a few more times, then stilled. Pidge drooped.

“Sorry,” Keith said apologetically. “Maybe if you snuck out now—?”

A sharp rapping on the door had them both wincing and diving to lock it.

“Nope!” Pidge squeaked.

“We know you’re in there!” Romelle called.

“We just want to have a girl’s night!” Allura added.

“I can actually braid!” Nadia’s voice said cheerfully.

“No! You tricked me!” Pidge accused.

“It was just a small trick,” Romelle wheedled. 

“You said pizza and explosions!” Pidge rebutted. 

“Well, there was pizza,” Allura said thoughtfully.

“And that attempt at a braid kind of looked like an explosion,” Nadia added.

Pidge, who was trying to work the next rubber band out of her hair, paused to glare at the door. “No.”

“Please?” Romelle asked. “We never get to do feminine things!”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Guys, I mean, _girls_ ,” she said patiently. “I appreciate the thought, but I am not your ‘ _girly-girl_ ’ girl.”

_Girly-girl girl?_ Keith mouthed the phrase in confusion. Pidge stuck her tongue out at him.

“If you want to talk coding, I can do that. I can eat pizza, play video games, and watch movies with lots of cool explosions,” Pidge continued. “If you want to discuss cosmetics, watch chick flicks and coo over how cute James’ smile is, I will barf on your shoes—yes, just like that.” She added as Keith mimed the motion next to her.

Silence.

_“But,_ ” Pidge said consideringly, “you know who would actually love to hang out with you guys?”

“Not Ina,” Nadia replied. “Trust me on this. It was ugly.”

Keith and Pidge traded glances, and Keith privately wondered how much _worse_ it had been with Ina.

“Um, actually, I was going to suggest Lance,” Pidge said tentatively. 

_“Lance?”_

Keith sniggered, and Pidge shot him a quelling look.

“Yeah,” She said. “Maybe not with the swooning over cute guys thing, but he can actually braid hair—he used to help with his niece’s hair all the time. He can do a _waterfall braid._ ” 

“Seriously?” Nadia gasped.

“Seriously.” Pidge nodded, even though they couldn’t see her through the door. “And Allura? You remember all that crap he was smearing on his face back on the castleship, right?”

“Oh,” Allura made a startled noise, “of course!”

“Lance can exfoliate like nobody’s business,” Pidge said confidently. “He’s a much better girl than I am, and he would love to gossip. Go bug him.”

“Very well,” Allura declared after a considering silence. “But we will have a group bonding session with you yet, Pidge.”

“Next time you want to build a robot, call me,” Pidge said sardonically. 

As the group’s footsteps disappeared down the hall, Pidge slumped against the door in relief. “Oh my god,” she groaned.

“I’m telling Lance you called him a girl,” Keith announced, slumping next to her. Pidge snorted and punched him in the shoulder. “Can Lance actually braid hair?”

“Yeah, he actually can.” Pidge giggled. “It was kind of his weird claim to fame back at the Academy. Apparently his sister-in-law is a cosmetologist, and she got him into it to help him learn to tie knots in ropes.”

“What?” Keith asked, confused.

“Boy scout.” Pidge shrugged. “He needed a badge for it, so she said if he could do braids, he could do knots.”

Keith shook his head, laughing.

“Well, um, thanks for saving me,” Pidge said, shifting against the door and offering him a tentative smile.

“It wasn’t really me,” Keith replied, shrugging. “But for what it’s worth, you’re welcome.”

“I guess I can...head out now?” Pidge said it like a question, though Keith wasn’t sure why. Still, since she sounded uncertain, he paused to consider it.

“I guess you could,” he said slowly, watching her expression drop a little. “Or...you could stay here?”

“Yeah?” Pidge’s eyebrow quirked in interest.

“Sure.” Keith nodded. “I mean...I don’t have any pizza, but I wasn’t really doing anything. I’ll dig up some movies, if you want to wash your face.”

Pidge considered. “Well, I wasn’t really doing anything either, so… sure.”

Keith offered her a shy smile, turning towards the entertainment center as she moved towards the bathroom. Booting it up, he hoped he hadn’t left anything embarrassing lying around the sink. Then he wondered why he felt so awkward about it— _it was just Pidge._

By the time she returned, he felt more at ease, sniggering as she settled next to him on the bed, still tugging at the mass of rubber bands worked into her hair. 

“Want some help?” He asked, eyeing the tufts of hair knotted and tied off with rubber bands.

_“Please,”_ she replied, tilting her head towards him.

“Pick a movie.” He plopped the controller into her lap, leaning over to fish his little pocket knife out—it would be simple enough to cut the tiny elastics without doing _too much_ damage to her hair... 

“Don’t you dare pull out your knife,” Pidge added, scrolling through the selection. 

Keith blinked, grimaced, and tucked the knife back into his pocket. Silently, he began sorting through the mass of tangles, working his fingers under the elastic and working them off. Pidge started the movie and set the controller down, and the two worked in silence until there was a small mountain of elastics and bobby pins between them and Pidge was combing her fingers through her freed hair.

“Thanks,” she said, sighing in relief.

“No problem,” Keith replied, eying the pile. “How did they even get that much stuff in your hair, anyway?”

“Romelle is _quick_.” Pidge shuddered. “I should throw those away.”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, but neither moved, continuing to sit next to each other and watch the movie. At some point during the movie, Keith felt a weight drop onto his shoulder and was surprised to see that Pidge had fallen asleep — though he wasn’t entirely sure why he was surprised, since he’d once watched Lance pull her out of a supply closet. Chances were a comfy bed and a warm shoulder were infinitely more comfortable than _that_. 

Keith shifted, uncertain in the peaceful, quiet trust. He glanced at Kosmo, who had eeled his way up the bed and was snuggled up against Pidge’s free side, head stretched over her lap like a furry blanket. 

“Hey boy,” he whispered, “Can you take Pidge back to her room?”

Kosmo blinked at him, but didn’t otherwise move.

“Please?” Keith tried again. 

When he got no response, Keith sighed, slouching down a bit to maneuver Pidge’s head to a less awkward angle, and firmly told himself it was for her comfort—not because he liked the line of warmth against his side. Yawning, he turned heavy eyes back to the screen, promising that he would take her back to her room as soon as the movie ended.

It was his last thought before he fell asleep.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-5-=-=-=-=-=-=-

A few nights later, Keith woke to Kosmo dragging his blanket off of the bed. He tangled sleepy fingers into the fabric, trying to pull it back, only for the resistance he was met with shaking him awake instead.

“Wha—? Lights, ten percent,” Keith mumbled, blinking in the sudden light and squinting down at Kosmo. “What the hell?”

Kosmo jerked at the blanket a bit more.“What is it?” Keith asked, letting go of the blanket and swinging his legs off the bed as Kosmo continued to tug it away. The wolf dragged the blanket towards the door, pawing impatiently on the sensor near the bottom, and stood there, staring expectantly back at Keith.

“Oh my God,” Keith groaned, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers and sparing a glance to make sure he had a shirt on. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

Kosmo flicked an ear back in his direction but didn’t stop, moving down the hall and into the lift. Keith stumbled after him, scowling as Kosmo looked at him expectantly. “I don’t know where you want to go,” he said.

Kosmo huffed, shifting and setting a paw atop Keith’s foot. Keith was wholly unsurprised when they teleported, the familiar twisting, tingling sensation that accompanied being moved from one space to another in less than a second. When it passed, he blinked and looked around at the mass of towers and equipment that comprised the server farm running the majority of the Atlas’ electronic systems.

Kosmo was head and shoulders inside of a tower that had been propped open, panel sitting off to the side amongst a pile of tools and odds-and-ends that Keith only half-recognized. Kosmo was head and shoulders inside the machinery, Keith’s blanket still dragging from his mouth as he attempted to stuff it inside the amongst the wires.

“Kosmo! No!” Keith yelped, diving forward to try and tug the blanket back. He wasn’t sure exactly what effect having a blanket inside of a computer would be, but he was pretty sure it wouldn't be good. 

Kosmo growled but backed up, dropping the blanket and looking at Keith expectantly.

“Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?” Keith grumbled, bending down and peering inside the tower. Somehow, he wasn’t overly surprised to see Pidge curled in amongst the wires, glasses askew and tools on her lap as she slept peacefully.

Keith pulled back and eyed Kosmo appraisingly. “You couldn’t reach her, could you?”

Kosmo’s ears lowered expressively. Sighing, Keith leaned back in, wrapping his fingers around Pidge’s arm and shaking her. “Pidge. Pidge, wake up.”

Pidge sighed, one eye cracking open to regard him blearily. “...what.”

“Come on Pidge, you need to come out of there,” Keith said, tugging at her arm.

Pidge grumbled but acquiesced, allowing Keith to maneuver her out of the tower’s innards and into the open. “How’d you find me?” she asked around a yawn, accepting the blanket from Kosmo with an absent pat on his head.

“I didn’t,” Keith admitted, watching her wrap the blanket around her shoulders. “Kosmo did.”

“Oh.” Pidge smiled down at the wolf tiredly, ignoring the mess and heading towards the lift. “Thanks, boy.”

“I guess I owe him more chicken,” Keith mused, following her into the elevator and pressing the button for the barracks level as she yawned again. Pidge made a vaguely questioning noise, eyes already sliding closed as she listed into his arm. Keith wrapped his arm over her shoulders to help her keep her balance. 

“I’ll tell you the story tomorrow,” he promised, wrapping his arm over her shoulders to help her keep her balance.

Pidge hummed, eyes closed as more of her weight leaned against him. Keith and Kosmo both watched as her knees started buckling. “Why were you down there?”

“Mm?” Pidge asked, eyebrow arching even as her eyes remained firmly shut.

Keith jostled her a bit to wake her up. “Why were you sleeping down there?” 

“Oh.” Pidge yawned and straightened, trying to keep up the conversation. “I, um, couldn’t sleep. So I thought I’d just go get a jump on...the thing.”

“Thing?” Keith prompted when she lapsed into silence.

“The _thing_ ,” Pidge whined, knocking her glasses askew as she burying her nose against his ribs. “Le’me _alone_.”

Keith jostled her again, but she only whined, and by the time the lift door dinged open she was well and truly asleep on her feet. Sighing, Keith leaned down, twisting to slide a hand under her thighs and hoist her up into her arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder and Keith used his chin to nudge her glasses back towards her face so they wouldn’t fall completely off.

“What are the chances of you putting Pidge in her bed?” Keith asked Kosmo rhetorically, looking down at the dog leaning against his legs. Kosmo’s ear twitched, and Keith blinked as they materialized inside of a barracks room, then sighed at the sight of his disheveled bed.

“Guess that’s a no, then,” he muttered as he watched Kosmo settle at the end of the bed and stare at him. 

He hoped Pidge hadn’t locked her room.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-6-=-=-=-=-=-

_“What the hell?”_

Keith jolted awake, limbs flailing as he simultaneously tried to shove himself upright and comb his hair out of his eyes as he struggled out of his pilfered blanket, staring in shock at the the sight of the crowd in his doorway.

“Wha—?” Keith flopped over, arm stretching towards the bedside table to check the clock. The body next to him grunted as he landed on top of them. Keith pushed himself up, staring in muted horror at the brown hair that definitely _did not not belong to Kosmo_ poking out from the blankets.

“Ugh,” Pidge said succinctly.

“What the hell?” Keith shoved himself upright, shoving both hands through his hair and staring wild-eyed at the cluster of people in his doorway. “What is going on here?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Matt insisted, eyeing Keith warily as Pidge groaned and pulled the blanket over her head. “Why is my sister in _your bed,_ Kogane?”

“I don’t know!” Keith insisted, looking around like his room would magically provide the answer to why his team mate (whom he had put into her _own bed_ , thank you very much) was now back in _his_ bed, instead. “What time is it?”

“After nine,” Lance piped up, grinning broadly. “You two slept through the eight o’clock meeting, so Shiro sent us to check on you.”

“I set an alarm.” Keith leaned over the squirming, Pidge-lump still burritoed in his original blanket and stared at the alarm clock lying on the floor. Broken. “What happened to my alarm clock?”

The Pidge-lump stilled.

“Pidge keeps her alarm clock on the other side of her room for a reason,” Matt said dryly. “But that’s not what I’m concerned with here.”

“Yeah dude, why is Pidge _in your bed?_ ” Hunk blurted out, apparently unable to keep quiet any longer.

“I don’t know!” Keith stressed again. Then he turned and poked his bedmate. “Why are you in my bed?”

“I don’t know!” Pidge’s indignant voice was muffled under the blanket. “Last I remember, I was working on Server 34-B.”

“That explains why the firing range wasn’t working this morning,” Matt mused. “Veronica was complaining about that.” 

“Nah, it was on the fritz before last night,” Hunk replied. “But Pidge and I were supposed to work on it _today._ ”

“It was today,” Pidge retorted, head popping out of her cocoon to scowl at her friend. “0200 is after midnight.”

“Can you like, come inside, or go away, or something?” Keith asked nervously, watching Rizvani and Romelle go strolling by, openly gawking. “Because this is awkward.”

“I just found my baby sister in bed with her male teammate,” Matt snapped. “You can deal with awkward.”

“Alright, one, it’s not like we’re _naked_ or anything; everyone has clothes on. In fact, everyone has their own _blanket._ Except you, boy,” He added as Kosmo picked his head up. “And, two, _I don’t even know how Pidge got here._ I put her in _her_ bed after Kosmo dragged me down to your little server farm to find her buried in one of the towers, snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” Pidge grumbled, rolling onto her back to stare at him pensively. “But...I kind of remember that. How did you find me?”

“I didn’t; _Kosmo_ did,” Keith said, then paused, slowly turning to stare at the dog, who was lying on his (rarely used but generously sized) dog bed in the corner. Every head in the room followed his gaze.

“Are you seriously trying to blame my baby sister being in your bed _on your dog?_ ” Matt asked incredulously.

Keith opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Pidge, who had apparently reached her threshold with Matt’s ‘ _overprotective big brother_ ’ routine.

“Has he ever _lied_ to you?” She demanded, wriggling her way out of the tangle of blankets to sit up, scowling. “Have _I_ ever lied to you? Barring the fact that I’m _nineteen_ —I’m not a child, and if I want to have sex, I damn well can.”

“Ohhhhkay, I’m just...gonna go somewhere not here,” Hunk said in a rush, grabbing Lance’s collar as he backed away.

“But Hunk, it’s getting good!” Lance protested.

“We’ll let Shiro know you’re fine, take your time!” Hunk shouted over his shoulder, dragging a protesting Lance down the hallway behind him.

Keith rolled his eyes, but privately wished _he_ could run away, too. Unfortunately, to do that he’d need to get _between_ the Holt siblings and he...didn’t want to do that.

“You were trapped in a quintessence field for two years — it doesn’t count!” Matt shouted back. 

“Keith was trapped in a time warp and aged two years in two weeks,” Pidge snapped, ignoring the by-play completely as she scowled at her brother. “If you can count those, you can count these. And even if you _can’t_ , you can take a look at my birth year and do basic math. I was born nineteen years ago!”

Keith glanced at Kosmo, in hope of escape, but the wolf had his gaze fixed on Matt and was ignoring Keith’s silent pleas.

“You’re seventeen!” Matt howled. “You are too young to be sleeping with some guy in his twenties!”

_Some guy?_ Keith’s eyes narrowed, thoroughly offended.

“And _you_ are making a scene!” Pidge leaned over, scooping up the remnants of the alarm clock and hurling them at the door in one smooth motion. Matt yelped, ducking from the broken tech and stepping back out of the doorway and into the hall.

“Door, lock,” Keith barked out, thoroughly frustrated.

“I’m telling mom!” Matt shouted from the other side of the closed door.

_“Go away!”_ Pidge screamed, before flopping back on the bed with a groan.

Shaking his head, Keith lay down and pulled the blanket back up.

“What are you doing?” Pidge asked, shooting him a confused look.

“Going back to sleep,” Keith mumbled into his pillow. “The day’s pretty much gone sideways—may as well avoid it a little longer.”

Pidge paused to consider, then nodded, lying down and burrowing back into her borrowed blanket. “Good point.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-7-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith had been absolutely right—the day had gone completely sideways. Just not in the normal way.

By the time Shiro met Shiro at the (fixed) range at 1600, he was almost wishing the klaxxon alarms would sound. Barring using Black to rip something to shreds though, he was happy to shoot some things.

“A little stressed?” Shiro asked mildly as Keith scowled and added a few more targets to the mix.

“I’m gonna borrow Hunk’s cannon,” Keith grunted, lifting the regulation handgun and sighting down the barrel.

“The Pidge situation?” Shiro took the handgun, swapping it for a rifle. Pressing the control button, the targets began moving a little faster.

“There are almost _two thousand_ people on the Atlas. How can they _all_ know that Matt threw a damn hissy fit outside my door this morning?” Keith complained, picking off the targets as they weaved around the enclosed area. “Does nobody have anything better to gossip about?”

“Maybe,” Shiro shrugged, “but when it’s two Paladins, people tend to gossip a bit faster.”

“Matt needs to keep his trap shut,” Keith grumbled.

“Matt gets a little protective of his sister,” Shiro hedged.

“But I didn’t _do_ anything!” Keith exploded, nearly dropping the rifle in his exasperation. Quickly, he pressed the safety and set it on the counter “I mean, I might— _might_ —deserve the glares, and the giggles and the _lecture_ if I was, but all I did was follow Kosmo to figure out why he was trying to steal my blanket!”

“Kosmo stole your blanket?” Shiro asked, confused.

“Yes!” Keith threw his hands up. “He couldn’t reach Pidge because she was wedged back into that server tower, so he was trying to shove my blanket in there with her. I hauled her out, and put her in _her bed_ , but when I woke up he’d moved her _back to mine._ ”

“Huh.” Shiro’s eyebrows rose.

“‘Huh’ what?” Keith asked, frowning.

“Does Kosmo do that often?” Shiro asked.

“Often enough,” Keith admitted ruefully. “Pidge is somehow the one who nobody can ever find, so he’s started fetching her for treats.”

“And does he normally leave her in your bed?” Shiro asked, looking amused.

“No?” Keith’s brow furrowed. “I mean, there was that one time he just wouldn’t take her to her room after she fell asleep, but he doesn’t usually bring her to my bed. The bunks here aren’t that big.”

“Maybe it’s a pack thing,” Shiro offered, shrugging. “She’s the smallest, youngest, arguably weakest member of the team, so he wants to protect her.”

“Or he’s just equated her with food,” Keith grumbled. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-8-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith woke slowly, blinking as he spit out some of Kosmo’s fur, and wondering vaguely why the wolf was up against him instead of his usual spot at the end of the bed (or on his own bed) as he looked towards his alarm clock.

Which was...not on his nightstand.

Odd.

Keith sighed, rolling onto his back and slinging his arm over his eyes as he tried to clear the fog from his head, wondering if he had woken up early, and what had woken him. He felt well-rested for being awake early, so he wasn’t really going to complain, except his alarm clock was missing. Had he knocked it to the floor?

Next to him, Kosmo shifted, groaning as he rolled over and snugged up against him, a long ling of heat stretching from his shoulder to his knees.

Then, as they threw an arm over his chest, and a knee over his thighs; Keith froze. Cautiously, he lifted his arm. Almost forgetting to breath as trepidation flooded him, he reached behind himself, and pressed the little switch that turned on the small overhead light.

Pidge groaned, dragging the blanket up over her head as she clutched him tighter. “Go ‘way.”

“Uh,” was Keith’s intelligent reply. “I...can’t?”

Pidge paused, the blanket slowly lowering as she squinted up at him in the dim light. “Um...”

“Hi.” Keith feeling the corners of his lips twitch up in a smile-like spasm, heart thudding in his chest. He desperately hoped that his team mate didn’t notice that he was only wearing his boxers.

“Good...morning?” Pidge squeaked, brow furrowing in alarmed confusion. “Why are you here?”

“I’m kind of wondering that myself,” Keith admitted, frowning a little at the situation.

Pidge turned, thankfully removing her limbs from on top of him as she twisted to follow his considering gaze. Keith knew when she connected the dots, because she groaned.

“I went to sleep in my room!” Pidge protested. “I didn’t even fall asleep anywhere weird!”

Keith shrugged, even though Pidge couldn’t see the motion. Since he had no explanation, he moved on to the next problem. “Can you see the clock?”

“The…” Pidge rolled over further, dragging the blanket down as she leaned over the side of the bed to look for it. “Oh. It’s right— _shit!_ ”

Pidge rolled out of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a _thump_ as she dragged the blanket with her. On his cushion, Kosmo woke up, head lifting to watch Keith start and try to yank the blanket back.

“What the—” Pidge whirled, shoving her short hair back as she watched Keith studiously avoid looking at her. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Keith asked incredulously, shutting his eyes to block out the sight of his team mate in only a tank top and her underwear. “Protecting your dignity, and mine!”

“Keith!” Pidge protested. “I need to get back to my room—we’re late for PT!”

“And whose fault is that?” Keith gave up on the blanket and grabbed for the sheet.

“ _Your dog’s,_ ” Pidge hissed, and Keith opened his eyes to find the blanket loosely gathered around her as she glared at him, brown eyes wide and snapping without the glasses to hide them. 

“Keith?” Hunk’s voice sounded from the hallway. “You awake, buddy?”

“Um, ye—yeah! Yes!” Keith called, eyes darting between Pidge and the door. “We— _I’ll_ be out in a minute!”

“Uh, okay. Cool. I’ll see you there?” Hunk asked, sounding a little uncertain. 

“Yeah!” Keith and Pidge both stared at each other as Hunk’s footsteps receded down the hall.

“I cannot go running down the hall in my underwear,” Pidge said faintly. Whirling, she strode over the where Kosmo was still watching from the corner, trailing the blanket as she went. 

Keith watched as Kosmo sat up on his cushion, tail thumping eagerly as Pidge knelt in front of him – very pointedly ignoring the fact that the blanket didn’t cover her backside.“Hey, Kosmo! Hey, boy,” Pidge greeted the dog with (slightly forced) affection. “Can you take me back to my room?”

Kosmo let out a happy little bark. “That’s right!” Pidge enthused, rubbing a hand over his ears. “My room! Take me to my room!” Kosmo’s tongue lolled, but otherwise nothing happened.

“Please? I’ll give you chicken,” Pidge cajoled. When Kosmo made no move to leave, Pidge sent Keith a pleading look over her shoulder.

“Kosmo.” Keith waited until the wolf’s dark gaze fixed on him. “Take Pidge to her room.”

Nothing. Kosmo sat happily on his cushion, tail wagging as he watched them. Pidge grimaced. “I’m going to need to borrow a spare uniform,” she declared defeatedly.

“That won’t work,” Keith pointed out. “You might be able to wear one of my shirts, but the shorts will be way too big on you.”

“Well, I’m not going to make it down the hall in my panties,” Pidge retorted matter-of-factly. “I don’t _care_ that the officers row isn’t as crowded as the enlisted barracks, I am _not_ doing the walk of shame unless I’ve earned it.”

Keith ignored the heat on his cheeks, pulling more of the sheet into his lap as he shifted to cross his legs more comfortably. “If somebody sent Hunk to come find me, then chances are he’s already gone to knock on your door, and figured out you’re not there.”

“And Hunk will worry, which means he’ll tell _everybody_ he couldn’t find me.” Pidge blew out a gusty sigh. “That’s bad, but not as bad as it could be. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t crashed in weird places before. So give me a spare set of PT gear, and I’ll just say I didn’t have any clean ones but I saw you in the hallway and you loaned me some.”

“That is the weakest excuse I’ve ever heard,” Keith informed her. “I mean, it’s so transparent _I_ can see through it.”

“Well, you’re not as dense as you used to be, so…” Pidge shrugged. “Where are your workout clothes?”

Keith considered. “Fine, but turn around.”

“What?” Pidge’s nose wrinkled. “Keith, I’ve seen you in bathing suits before. I’ve seen you in your underwear before. Hell, I’ve seen you _naked_ before.”

“Medical emergencies are a little different,” Keith retorted. “Just do it, okay?”

“Fine.” Pidge turned around, and Keith dropped the sheet and scurried over to the build in wardrobe, throwing it open and snatching out a pair of leggings. “But this is still ridiculous.” 

“Don’t care,” Keith retorted, grimacing as he adjusted himself before reaching to grab a set of the Garrison’s regulation physical training gear. Slipping on the shorts, he took a moment to make sure everything was appropriately hidden. “Alright, you can look.”

Pidge turned around, eyes roaming over him briefly. “I can still see your moobs.”

“They’re _pectoral muscles_ , you gremlin,” Keith replied, slipping on the plain, light grey Garrison shirt over his head. Bending down, he grabbed another pair of black leggings and some socks.

“You’re gonna need a training bra soon,” Pidge said dryly, catching the leggings he flung at her and dropping the blanket.

“Jeez, Pidge! A little warning?” Keith spun to rummage through the drawer for a smaller shirt. Behind him, Pidge laughed.

“Holy cow, it’s like you’ve never seen a girl in a bathing suit before,” she teased.

“I’ve seen plenty of girls in less than bathing suits,” Keith chucked the shirt over his shoulder blindly. “I’ve even seen you in a bathing suit, and your underwear, but like I said, this is different.”

“Seriously?” Pidge’s voice was a bit muffled. “It’s basically the same thing.”

“Says the girl who didn’t want to walk to her room.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Are you done yet?”

“Yeah, you’re good.”

Keith turned around to see Pidge adjusting the leggings, folding the tighter spandex over the shorts to help hold them up. Keith nodded appreciatively at her ingenuity. 

“We’ve still got the problem of shoes,” he said, gesturing to her bare feet, the too-long leggings pooling around her ankles. 

“Today is mat work,” Pidge replied. “I heard Axca and Veronica talking about it yesterday.”

“Oh. Well, let’s go then,” Keith said. “And just hope nobody notices your outfit.”

“By all means.” Pidge gestured to the door. “After you.”

Keith peered out into the deserted hallway, and thanked his lucky stars that nobody was around to see Pidge sneak out of his room. 

He had a feeling Matt might not be so forgiving a second time, especially if his sister was wearing his clothes.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-9-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Hey, can you find Pidge?”

“What?” Keith looked up from the Equipment Request Form he was checking over and blinked at Hunk, who had poked his head around the door.

“Pidge,” Hunk repeated patiently. “Can you please find her?”

“Why do you need me to find her?” Keith asked in confusion.

“Because she left her comm on her workbench, got into a fight with her mom in the hydroponics lab, and promised to meet me for lunch.”

“But why do you need _me_ to find her?” Keith waved his hand absently around the small office that most of the senior leadership shared. “I’ve been here all morning. If you already tried her comms, I mean, I don’t have another way to— Oh.” Keith broke off, following Hunk’s gaze to Kosmo, who was on the dog bed wedged in the corner, head up and peering at them with interest.

“He doesn’t really listen to anybody but you,” Hunk said.

“That’s not saying much,” Keith mumbled, thinking to the various times the wolf had found Pidge and then refused to leave her where she belonged. “Did you try asking him?”

Hunk shrugged. “Kosmo! Hey boy, can you find Pidge?”

Kosmo’s tail thumped enthusiastically against the cushion, but he didn’t otherwise move. Hunk looked at Keith expectantly.

“Uh...” Keith blinked down at the space wolf. “Find Pidge?”

Kosmo’s tongue lolled and he gave a short yip before flashing out of the room.

“See? He totally listens to you!” Hunk said cheerfully. “Hey, do you think he’d find— _oh my God!_ ”

Kosmo reappeared, standing on Pidge’s foot as she fired her bayard. Pidge gaped as Hunk and Keith both shrieked and dove for cover.

“What the—” Pidge stood from her defensive crouch, arm lowering as she stared blankly around the office, blinking at the scorch mark upon the wall, quickly reeling in her still-buzzing bayard. 

“Um...” Hunk smiled up at her tentatively from between his fingers as Keith pulled himself up off the floor. “...Lunch?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-10-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“So, do you think Lassie here will find anybody?” Lance asked, pointing his spoon at Kosmo. “Or is it just Pidge? Like, if I asked him to find Hunk, or Allura, would he do that?”

Keith shrugged. “I don’t know. Try.”

“I dunno,” Lance gave him a sly look, “I don’t want to wind up with Shiro being dumped in my bed in the middle of the night or something.”

“Then ask him to find Allura,” Keith shot back.

“Kosmo,” Lance called, turning to the wolf with a grin. “Hey, boy.”

Kosmo glanced up from his bowl at his name.

“Kosmo, find Allura,” Lance said. Kosmo blinked. “Come on boy, find Allura,” Lance tried again.

“Maybe offer him a reward,” Keith offered. “He’s really partial to chicken.”

Lance swiped a piece of Keith’s chicken, ignoring his indignant yelp and holding it up. “Find Allura, Kosmo.”

Kosmo’s head picked up, eyes fixed on the bite of meat as his tail wagged.

“Kosmo, find Allura!” Lance’s lips pursed as he glared at Keith. “Dude.”

Keith shrugged helplessly. “Kosmo,” he said, snatching the piece of chicken and holding it up, “find Allura!”

“What are you guys doing?” Shiro asked, dropping into the seat next to Keith with his tray.

“Trying to figure out how to get Kosmo to fetch people,” Lance said, watching Keith drop the piece of chicken back onto his tray. “Like, how does this work?”

“I think he knows that Pidge equals chicken,” Keith grumbled, picking at the steamed vegetables that had been unceremoniously dumped onto his tray by Colleen Holt. 

Keith had the low-key urge to remind her that he was an adult who could make his own dietary choices, but considering she hadn’t killed him after the ‘ _her-daughter-in-his-bed_ ’ debacle, he rather felt that a spoonful of broccoli was a small price to pay for his life (even if it was grown in worm poop). Eyeing Shiro’s similar helping, Keith wondered if his friend had chosen them for himself, or had been directed to them by Pidge’s mother as well.

“I still stand by my pack protection theory,” Shrio rebutted, jabbing his vegetable-laden fork in Keith’s direction for emphasis.

“Your what now?” Lance asked, eyebrow quirked.

“Kosmo is a wolf, right?” Shiro shrugged. “Wolves have packs, and jobs within in them. We’re Keith’s pack, and Kosmo’s job is to take care of the smallest, weakest member.”

“...I take it you mean Pidge,” Lance’s lips quirked. “Word of advice: don’t ever call her small or weak to her face. Because she will break your kneecaps.”

“I’d say she’s more likely to put a virus on your computer,” Keith offered. “Or, like, make it so it sounds like you’ve eaten helium whenever you try to speak over the ship’s speakers.”

“One, you don’t _eat_ helium, you _inhale_ it,” Shiro said, rolling his eyes. “And, two, I’m not saying Pidge is weak. She’s really strong and a very good fighter. But she’s smaller than the rest of us and we keep losing her, so I think Kosmo has taken it as his job to keep track of her. Also, don’t give her ideas.”

“Nobody has to give her ideas, she has plenty of her own. Remember Marco Santos from flight 15-B?” At Keith’s nod, Lance continued. “He liked to pick on Pidge back at the Garrison. And then he found his shampoo swapped with blue hair dye, his baby pictures on the shared drive, and the staff _randomly_ decided to do drug tests for the entire flight and found out about his habits.”

“Wow,” Keith’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay. So, do not mess with Pidge; she’ll ruin your life.”

“Service with a smile,” Lance deadpanned. “So do you think we can train the magical teleporting space dog to find other people, or is it just Pidge?”

“He’s not a dog,” Keith mumbled. “He’s a _wolf._ And he finds me all the time. And mom. And Kolivan.”

“Uh, pretty sure he’s been domesticated,” Lance rebutted. “I mean, he’s your loyal companion and all, and has taken to tracking down our wayward child like some kind of freaky space Lassie. Hey, do you think anyone can tell him to find Pidge?”

Keith shrugged. “He didn’t listen to Hunk, but Hunk didn’t have any chicken.”

“So he needs incentive to perform? Cool, cool, I get that.” Lance picked up the previously-used piece of meat and held it up for Kosmo to see. “Kosmo, fetch Pidge!”

Kosmo glanced at Keith, then went back to his bowl. Sighing, Lance dropped the piece of food and turned back to his tray.

“Sorry,” Keith said, shrugging. 

“Maybe it’s just you,” Shiro mused, frowning thoughtfully. 

“Like, he only fetches Pidge when _Keith_ asks?” Lance frowned at his teammate consideringly. “I guess you are kind of his master. It makes sense.”

“I think he just likes Pidge,” Keith said. “Clearly she’s been sneaking him snacks—I see her do it all the time with BaeBae.”

“Oh _do you?_ ” Lance leered. “How do you even see that? Do you watch our little Pidgey-pie often, Samurai?” 

“I have eyes, and I don’t use them to stare longingly at Allura. Pidge isn’t exactly subtle, she just makes sure her mom doesn’t see.” Keith rolled his eyes. “Maybe he just doesn’t know where she is. Maybe he only goes to get people when he knows their locations.”

“Could be,” Shiro allowed.

“I don’t buy it,” Lance said dismissively. “We saw Allura in the hydroponics room right before we came to the chow hall, so why didn’t he go there for her?”

“Maybe he only fetches Pidge _if_ he can find her,” Keith argued, scowling. “Do _you_ know where she is? Because I haven’t seen Pidge all day.”

Lance leaned forward, eyes glinting.

“Guys—” Shiro started to say, even as Lance opened his mouth, but everyone paused when Kosmo let out a bark, ears swiveling back before he disappeared in a flash.

“Did he just—?” Lance pointed to the spot where Kosmo had been. 

“I gotta get out of here,” Keith said in rush, pushing his seat back and shoving hs tray towards Shiro. “Cover for me.”

“What?” Shiro looked bewildered. “Why?”

“Because it’s Thursday, and Pidge is _always_ helping in the engine room on Thursdays,” Keith said, already turning to run. “With wrenches and saws and _soldering equipment!_ If Kosmo interrupts her, she’ll—”

Kosmo blinked back, barking happily to announce his arrival. He was leaning against Pidge, who was holding a handful of torn wires and wearing the least-amused expression Keith had ever seen.

“—kill me,” he finished, shoulders slumping. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-11-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“This is getting old,” Pidge whined into his hair. “And your pillow is small.”

Keith grunted and forced himself to roll away from Pidge’s warmth, relinquishing the pillow but dragging the blanket with him, trying not to smirk as she squawked in dismay. Pidge must have seen it anyway (or sensed it—who knew what Gremlin Senses picked up?) because a moment later the lost pillow hit him, _hard._ Keith grunted, rolling over to find Pidge already out of bed and rooting through his closet. 

“What are you doing?” he demanded, ignoring the way her sleep shorts stretched as she bent further into the closet. (At least she was _wearing_ shorts this time.)

Pidge made a triumphant noise, emerging with an oversized hooded sweatshirt he’d stolen from Shiro. Pulling it over her head, she held her arms out to the side with pleased smirk. “Ta-da!”

Keith tried not to stare. The sweatshirt was a comfortably loose on _him_ —Pidge was practically _swimming_ in it. The sleeves had been pushed up to pool around her wrists, and the bottom hem landed part way down her thighs, completely covering her shorts.

“I think that covers everything,” Pidge said, staring down at her bare toes for a moment before moving towards his dresser.

“It...does…” Keith admitted reluctantly as she pulled out a pair of his socks and began shoving her feet into them. “But I don’t think it helps.”

It didn’t cover nearly enough, Keith thought privately, but he damn well knew better than to say that to Pidge’s face. Her standing in his room, sleep-rumpled and looking for all the world as if she was wearing nothing but his pilfered clothing, was sure to kill him. 

Of course, Keith thought wryly, if Pidge knew the direction of his thoughts, she would probably kill him first.

“Well, tough,” Pidge informed him primly, breaking his reverie and drawing his focus back to her as she slid her feet into her spare trainers. “Because I’m meeting my family for breakfast and I’ve got fifteen minutes to make it to my quarters, dress, and get the the chow hall. And I’m not doing that in pajamas.” 

“...do you want a pair of pants?” Keith offered hopefully. 

“Nobody cares about my _legs_ , Keith, they see me in shorts all the time,” Pidge replied with disdain. “I’m more worried about hiding the fact that I’m not wearing a _bra._ ”

Keith opened his mouth, then closed it.

“That’s what I thought,” Pidge snorted, moving towards the door. “Get a second pillow.”

“Next time my dog kidnaps you, bring your own!” Keith fired back nonsensically as the door swished shut behind her. Groaning, he pulled the pillow over his head and contemplated smothering himself. Saturday morning was _too early_ for this bullshit.

Peeking out from under the pillow, Keith glared at Kosmo, who had ignored all of the byplay and was happily snoozing on his new favorite spot in the corner.

“This is all _your_ fault,” he accused the sleeping wolf.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-12-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Keith opened his closet door, hand already out and prepared to hang up his freshly laundered spare uniform, but paused at the unfamiliar clothing already occupying the space.

“Um…” he tilted his head and squinted at the smaller, green-and-white uniform jacket hanging next to his own, black slacks neatly draped over the rod spanning the hanger. Next to it were two plain colored shirts, and a pair of jeans draped over yet another hanger. “What?”

“Your _mutt_ , that’s what,” Pidge said crisply as she emerged from the small lavatory off of his quarters. She strode over to the small built-in drawers that made up his dresser and opened one, then promptly shoved the contents aside and began unloading a previously-unnoticed duffle bag into the drawer. 

“Since I cannot make an anti-teleportation device — and _believe me_ , I’ve been trying—and I’m done doing the walk of shame to my quarters most every day, I’m storing some emergency supplies in your room.” Pidge informed him. 

Keith knew better than to ask how Pidge had gotten into his room: much like the canine that was causing them so much trouble, if Pidge wanted to be somewhere, she got there. He chewed his lip, considered his irate team mate, and then eyed the uniform in the closet and the socks Pidge was trying to wedge in next to a pile of sleep and workout clothes. “Alright.”

“‘Alright?’” Pidge echoed incredulously, turning to stare at him. “That’s _it?_ ”

“Sure.” Keith hung his uniform up and shut the door. “Is one drawer going to be enough?”

“Keith,” Pidge whined, annoyed, “how are you okay with this?”

“Well, I mean, Kosmo has been dumping you in my bed for, what? Weeks now?” Keith scooped his clothing out of the drawer and set it aside before opening the next drawer up to begin emptying it. 

“Seventeen out of the last twenty-three days,” Pidge said dryly.

“Yeah, like I said—weeks.” Keith began working on shifting his scant clothing around in different drawers. Pidge rolled her eyes and went back to unpacking her small duffle. “At least this way the next time I wake up to find you fully dressed and covered in grease, if won’t be such a hassle to get you to put your pajamas on.”

“That happened _once._ ”

“Three times. And a few times in your uniform. Or holding tools. Don’t forget the time you fell asleep _eating a cookie_ ,” Keith added. “How did you even do that?”

“Same way I fell asleep in my gear: I was tired.” Pidge snarked.

“Point is, you practically live here anyway,” Keith said. “Or at least Kosmo thinks you do. Until you get that anti-teleportation device up and working—”

“I will _never_ get that thing up and working,” Pidge grumbled sarcastically. “You wouldn’t think it would be so hard to convince molecules to stay in one place!”

“—you may as well have a few things available so you don’t have to steal my clothes, or take my blanket have to try to make it back to your room in your underwear.” Keith finished.

“Why is Kosmo dragging _me_ around, anyway?” Pidge groaned, flopping back onto his bunk, one leg trailing off of the mattress, toes dangling a good six inches above the floor.

“Um.” Keith stared as she stretched back, shirt riding up over her stomach as she folded her arms behind her head. Realizing she had asked him a question, he almost had to shake himself. “What?”

“Your _dog,_ ” Pidge drawled, as if he were being exceptionally slow. “Why does he keep dropping me in front of you? And dragging me to your room?”

Keith studied the way she lay sprawled out on his bed, short hair spread over her forearms and limbs akimbo as she pouted up at him. He was staring again.

“I have no idea,” he announced quickly, turning to hunt up the sneakers he’d automatically toed off at the door, anything for a distraction. “But I think Shiro has some theories. Want to go to dinner and ask him about them?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-13-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It was alarmingly easy to get used to Pidge’s presence in his life.

He’d been used to her before, certainly; they’d been the only residents of the Castle Ship for quite some time before Keith had joined the Blades, when they’d all hung out together out of necessity rather than choice. They had eaten together, trained together, lived together and fought together. 

The bond needed to form Voltron already meant that there were few barriers between them, and Keith had (rightly) pointed out that in the face of medical emergencies modesty fell by the wayside. The end result was, there was nobody else Keith trusted more implicitly than his teammates, and he was used to close and continual contact with them. 

There was always a respectful limit to that closeness however. When they’d gone to bed at night, they had always been separated. Even if they’d occasionally (or more than occasionally, if it was a bad fight) found their way to a common area and fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and comfort, nobody ever ventured into another person’s quarters uninvited.

Not to say that Keith hadn’t occasionally shared his sleeping space with somebody, either platonically or romantically, but rarely for the night and never for an extended period of time, whatever his entanglements. Even in a cave on the back of a space whale with his rediscovered mother, his space had always been _his._

Kosmo had been the only one who heretofore breached that wall, mostly on the virtue of being a _dog._ A beloved and trusted team mate in his own way, but somehow, despite the teeth and claws, not threatening.

So he’d regarded Pidge’s slow invasion of his space with veiled trepidation. A drawer and a sliver of closet space didn’t seem so bad, but Keith had been unnerved when he opened his tiny medicine cabinet to find an unfamiliar toothbrush sitting innocently on the shelf with his. He’d stared at it for longer than he really should have, wondering what it _meant_ , then decided it probably meant Pidge was a practical sort who took oral hygiene seriously, and laughed at his own ridiculousness before shutting the door. 

At least he still had plenty of time to himself. Even if most days he woke up smashed up against the bulkhead, or in a tangle of limbs with Pidge’s hair in his mouth, he started off on his own. He came back to his room and had time to unwind and relax. He still went to bed solo, even if he didn’t usually wake up that way, so it was easy to overlook it when the (third) alarm clock found a new home on a shelf across the room. Or when Pidge’s laptop started appearing on the inset shelf above his head. She’d fall asleep holding some gadget she was working on, and it would slip out of her hands when Kosmo moved her, and Keith would find it having rolled across the floor and would return it to her whenever he saw her. 

Sometimes he didn’t see her before she came looking for whatever she’d dropped, and if neither of them had somewhere else to be they would sit in companionable silence, each working on their own projects. Or they would watch a movie. Or they would go to the chow hall together to find a snack. But at the end of it, Pidge would say goodnight, and they would part ways, and Keith would go back to his room alone.

And wake up with Pidge. 

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-14-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It’s a testament to how often Kosmo popped in and out of Keith’s personal space that he didn’t even look up at the vague shift of displaced air and the happy little yip signalling his companion’s return. 

“Hey Pidge, were you able to get the liquid creamer this time?” He asked, still frowning over the tentative teleduv schedule—why did they need to go to Olkari twice in one week? That was all the way in sector 34N, when they should be focusing on 175C where the most recent Galra rebel activity had been reported.

“I take it you’re expecting company?” Keith’s head shot up, smile already forming at his mother’s amused tone. Then he blinked. 

“How did you get here?” He demanded.

“In a ship?” Krolia’s eyebrow arched. “You knew I was arriving today.”

“I know _that._ ” Keith waved his hand dismissively. “How did you get into my office?”

“Kosmo?” Krolia’s brows knotted a little in confusion. “He found me down in the hallway and brought me here.”

Keith huffed out a breath and leveled the proud-looking canine with a sternly pointed finger. “ _No._ She _won’t fit,_ do you hear me?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-15-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Thankfully, Kosmo refrained from trying to deposit his _mother_ into his bed. Shiro speculated it was because his mother was well-able to defend herself. Hunk thought it was because Krolia was too heavy to easily transport, not small and dainty like Pidge. Keith dared either man to say _any_ of that to Pidge’s face.

They declined.

“Want me to bring you lunch today?” Keith asked, rolling out of bed as Pidge padded out of the bathroom. He tossed her a set of her workout clothes, ignoring the way they mostly landed in a heap at her feet, and turned to sort out his own clothing.

“Nah,” Pidge’s voice was muffled through cotton as she stripped off her nightclothes and kicked them towards the laundry bag in the corner. “I’ll actually be down in the hanger with the A30s today, so it should be pretty easy to break for lunch.”

“Yeah?” Keith turned, eyebrow quirked as he pulled his issued workout shorts over the longer leggings most of them wore. “What are you doing down there?”

“We’re going to test out my jammer on a few of the standard aircraft, since we haven’t had luck with the MFEs.” Pidge turned, bending to slide open the drawer under his bed where their trainers were stashed. 

Keith did _not_ oogle his team mate and bed partner, because that would be _rude._ It was just that he couldn’t help noticing that the weird reflective stripes that circled the hips and dipped into a slight vee at the seam on the back were a little worn. Not that they needed much reflective gear in space, but it was obvious that Pidge’s shorts are showing signs of wear. 

Which was perfectly innocent, and Keith really had no excuse for why his gaze guiltily snapped to the ceiling (not conspicuous _at all!_ ) when Pidge straightened, reflexively tossing his trainers at him and clearly expecting him to catch them.

When Lance asks about the weird bruise forming on his cheek, and Pidge gleefully announces his lack of awareness, the excuse to be mad at Lance’s subsequent teasing is almost a relief. 

Because Keith is a really rude person.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-16-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You have got to be kidding me,” Keith grumbled, squinting blearily up into the exposed ductwork. 

Kosmo’s anxious pacing next to him told him that, indeed, he was not kidding him.

“What the hell, Pidge?” Keith grumbled, ignoring the open tool bag next to the ladder and wincing as bare flesh made contact with the cold metal.

It occurred to him as he stuck his head into the opening that if Pidge were too far back, he’d need to climb _back_ down and go find some kind of light to see her, but luckily she wasn’t too far away, wedged upright in the vent with her datapad still glowing in her lap. 

Keith plucked the datapad from unresisting fingers, glancing at the screen to see if anything needed saving before shutting the computer down and stashing it in his pocket. 

“Sir?”

Keith glanced down the ladder at the troop, clearly one of the night crew since they were in uniform, who was shifting uncomfortably at the base of the ladder. Probably (understandably) confused about why this half-naked man was crawling in the ceiling.

Keith briefly thought the corporal should be more suspicious of this situation, perhaps not standing, open and vulnerable, at the base of the ladder, staring at him guilelessly, then banished the thought. Not everybody had been trained to be paranoid the way he was, which was (probably) a good thing. 

“Yes?” he asked calmly.

“Oh! Um, Officer Kogane, sir. I didn’t recognize you.” The corporal blushed bright red, averting her eyes as Keith stared at her in bemusement. “Um. What are you doing?”

“Just trying to get to bed,” Keith said wryly, leaning forward to prod Pidge, who squirmed away from his finger.

“What?”

“Come on,” Keith grumbled to his unconscious teammate, ignoring the poor confused corporal. “Don’t make me come up there after you.”

Pidge roused at the sound of his voice, dark eyes blinking open to stare at him dazedly from behind the enormous, unnecessary glasses she still wore. “Keith?”

“Hey Pidge,” he said, offering her what he hoped was a soothing smile, “can you come out of the ceiling now?”

“Mm.” Pidge scooted closer. “I need to finish rewiring the central duct to redirect air to—”

“It’s after midnight,” Keith interrupted her sleepy ramble, watching carefully as scuffed sneakers appeared from the vent, slender calves disappearing into old, oversized shorts until she sat, perched on the edge. “And you didn’t sleep much last night, either.”

“How did you find me?”

“How do I always find you?” Keith mocked affectionately, watching as Pidge scrubbed a hand over tired eyes, knocking the frames of her glasses askew. 

“Kosmo,” Pidge sighed out a yawn. “How does _he_ find me?”

Only Pidge, Keith thought, could be mostly-asleep and somehow _still_ asking questions. “Hell if I know. He’s a wolf of many talents.”

“Mm.” Pidge’s eyes were already sliding shut as she held her arms out, fingers grasping in his general direction. “Carry me.”

Acutely aware of the MP cadet still staring at them, Keith shook his head. “I don’t even have a shirt on, Pidge. Kosmo literally dumped me in the hallway from my bed.”

It had been a long day for him as well.

Pidge cracked an eye open. “Lookin’ good, Kogane. All those ripply muscles an’ stuff. Very sexy. Even sexier if you use them for carrying girls off. Nadia says the caveman routine is hot.”

_“Pidge,”_ Keith admonished, face growing hot; he cleared his throat even as the corporal’s eyes bugged out. “Come on, Midget. If you can talk, you can walk.”

“Nuh—” Pidge’s response was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn, “—uh. Oh, what? Trust fall,” she sing-songed, not even opening her eyes as she tumbled forward.

Keith had a split-second to decide whether to catch her or not. 

“It would serve you right if I dropped you,” he scolded, even as his arms wrapped around her.

“But you didn’t,” Pidge mumbled smugly into his shoulder, ankles hooking smoothly at the small of his back. 

Keith teetered briefly as he adjusted to the shift in gravity, one hand gripping the rung to steady himself even as the other shifted, sliding under Pidge’s butt, fingers digging into her thigh to make sure she didn’t slip.

“You are such a damn gremlin,” Keith said, shuffling backwards down the last rung of the ladder before stepping gratefully back onto solid ground. 

He eyed the open ductwork, the ladder, and the open tool bag before turning to the corporal. “Would you mind putting the ladder and tool bag off to the side? I’ll send Pidge to get it in the morning.”

Keith blamed the early hour and being half-asleep himself for not realizing how that sounded until after the cadet’s mouth dropped open. _Shit._

Pidge snorted into his shoulder.

“Yes, sir, no problem,” the corporal nodded vigorously, already moving to shift the things aside before Keith could contemplate being even _more_ embarrassed. 

Sighing, Keith decided that it wasn’t worth the worry. It was going on two in the morning, and he’d been unceremoniously dumped out of his warm bed and into an adjacent hallway, sans even a shirt or slippers to ward off the chill of the ship’s common areas. 

At least, he thought fleetingly, he hadn’t fallen asleep in just his boxers.

Keith pursed his lips and shuffled to the side so he was wedged up against a now-calmer Kosmo. “Take us home, buddy.” He mumbled. 

When Keith opened his eyes (he could never remember closing them) he was back in the hallway leading to single officers quarters. Sighing, he hitched Pidge up higher, trying not to think about how her legs felt wrapped around his waist and relieved that one of them was fully dressed. 

He mentally debated the merits of trying to unwind her legs and switch her to a princess carry. Partially because it would make him feel less awkward, but also because he could tease her later about having carried her like a princess while she slept in his arms.

Her face would be _priceless._

Keith was still debating the merits as he struggled to reach the keypad beside his door. Next to him, Kosmo sat patiently, tail thumping against the floor as he waited patiently for the door to open. 

“Keith?”

Keith half-turned, peering blearily over the top of Pidge’s head to where Hunk was standing in his own pajamas, clutching a steaming mug and staring at them in bemusement.

“What are you doing?” the yellow paladin asked.

If asked later, Keith would claim that the late (early?) hour made him groggy and less aware. That he was simply saving himself the hassle of trudging down the hall to Pidge’s door, because Kosmo would inevitably wind up depositing his friend back into his bed before the night was over. That it was easier to just to skip the middle the step and not wake up smashed against the wall.

At the moment, sleep-addled and only half-way functioning without the familiar rush of adrenaline to carry him to total wakefulness, Keith could only stare. “Uh…”

Hunk’s lips twitched. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Here, let me help you out.” Without any further ado, Hunk reached past him and punched Keith’s code into the pad. The door obligingly swished open, admitting the trio to the darkened interior. 

Keith opened his mouth, half-formed thoughts of _why_ exactly he was at his door, instead of putting Pidge into her room like the good, _platonic_ teammate he was, but his excuses got clogged up in his throat with the simple truth of _because that’s where I want her._

Hunk seemed to understand, though, because he simply patted Keith on the shoulder, wished them a good night, and continued on his way.

Keith shuffled into his room, the door shutting behind them with a whisper. The lights weren’t on, aside from the small ambient lights that were always on to prevent total darkness, but Keith didn’t need them. He could easily hear Kosmo make his way to the corner, toenails clicking across the floor before he settled back onto his bed (his preferred sleeping place now) with a sigh.

Keith made his way over to their ( _his_ ) bed, leaning over and setting Pidge on top of the mussed covers. He tried to unwind her from around him but she only clung tighter, thighs tightening around his hips even as her arms clutched his shoulders.

“Hey.” Keith tried to maneuver his hips a little further back, uncomfortable and not wishing to make things awkward, but the motion only dragged Pidge along since she wouldn’t uncross her ankles. “Pidge.”

“Mm?” Pidge roused enough to pull her head out of his neck, arms loosening so she could lean back and blink up at him (though Keith was quite sure she couldn’t actually see him in the dark).

“You can’t sleep like this,” Keith said, fingers plucking worn fabric of her baggy old shirt. “Take your shoes off.”

Pidge grunted a sleepy assent, and Keith stood gratefully as her legs eased from around his waist. He watched, absurdly grateful that his teammates had never realized how good his night vision was and slightly ashamed of himself for taking advantage of it, as Pidge leaned back, weight braced on her arms.

Her shoes dropped to the floor with muffled thumps as she toed them off, and Keith forced himself to turn away as her fingers started to lift the hem of her shirt. He reached down, pulling open the drawer under the bed and snatching a random shirt out of it, then another, needing the additional barrier of cloth between them, flimsy protection though it was.

Pidge had dropped back on the bed, and Keith nearly swallowed his tongue as he watched her unashamedly unfasten her shorts and shimmy them down her hips to drop onto the floor with the rest of the pile. 

“I— Um.” Keith whirled around, reaching to fling the spare shirt ( _his_ shirt, oh God) in what he hoped was her direction as he strode towards the bathroom. “I’ll be back.”

Pidge’s sleepy murmur, vaguely questioning, was the last thing he heard before the door shut behind him.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-17-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The mission was supposed to be pretty routine. There had been a battle fought over the planet, and the _Atlas_ had descended to check out the planet’s surface. 

The atmospheric composition was similar to Earth, so the botany teams were collecting samples of local fauna, the oxygen processors on the Atlas were being filtered, and new air cycled in. An abandoned compound had been located on the far side of the planet, and the Paladins had been dispatched to check it out and see if anything of value had been left behind. 

It was clear from the first glance that the base evacuation had been a rush job, hastily cleared of valuables before the Galra rebels had fled. Coalition crews were out with the Atlas fighters and the MFE pilots now, sweeping for any stragglers or ships that had returned to (or remained on) the surface. 

Something inside the base itself had been jamming their comm signals for a while, and Keith had stepped back outside to communicate with the ship.

“ _—eith? Keith, do you copy?_ ”

“I do now, Coran,” Keith replied, lifting the visor of his helmet and blowing out a gusty sigh. His hand dropped down to scratch idly behind Kosmo’s ears, which were pricked attentively as he surveyed the area. “Sorry I’m late with the check-in. Still nothing to report.”

The jamming radius lasted about 100 yards around what they deduced to be the command center for the base; it was quite a bit larger than the smaller outbuilding that appeared to be a chow hall and barracks, though Keith was holding out hope that at least one of them would turn out to be a satellite laboratory. 

The lions had been parked somewhat closer since whatever was messing with their comms wasn’t interfering with their flight function, and while Keith liked that they were close enough for an easy getaway, he was still fairly nervous about the whole operation. Standing out in the open like this made his skin crawl, and he was grateful for his canine partner’s vigilance.

“Still no luck on the jammer?"

“Not so far,” Keith replied, shaking his head. “Pidge did a scan of their systems, but I’ve also got Hunk sweeping to see if it might be a physical device placed somewhere nearby.”

“That’s a lot of ground to cover,” Coran mused. “It could be practically anywhere. The only saving grace would be that in order to cover such a large area, it would have to be fairly large and noticeable itself.”

“Yeah, I just hope it isn’t hidden under someone’s bed or something,” Keith frowned. “But just in case, I’ve got Lance and Hunk doing a perimeter sweep around the outside, heading around back. The signal area may not be as large as we think.”

“Good idea,” Coran praised. “If Lance can determine the range of the device, that will help Hunk narrow down the location. Allura?”

“She’s sweeping the interior of the building,” Keith said. 

“By herself?”

“I was with her, until we realized we’d missed the check-in,” Keith replied. “Nothing much of interest so far—a few weapons left in what looks like an armory. Looks to be standard Imperial issue, but we’re rounding them up for you anyway.”

“Good, good,” Coran hummed. “I’ll let the MEs know to expect them.”

“MP’s,” Keith corrected automatically. “They’re called Military _Police_ , not enforcers.”

“Sorry, I’ll let the po- _lease_ know to expect them,” Coran replied. “Earthains have such strange titles, you know. Anything arcane or alchemic in nature?”

“We hadn’t encountered anything so far, but we were only about two-thirds of the way through when I had to break off,” Keith said. “Hunk and Lance took opposite sides of the building to make it go a little faster, and Allura was supposed to finish the sweep and meet them around the back. I’m going to head back into the command center, and once everyone is finished we’ll reconvene and go back through for a more thorough investigation.”

“Good, good,” Coran said. “Ah! I’m getting something from number five now—looks like she managed to finally crack the system.”

“Anything interesting?” Keith asked, looking down as Kosmo started whining next to him. Frowning, Keith turned to survey the foliage around him.

“Not yet,” Coran said distractedly. “Number five says she ran an initial diagnostic, but it looks like it’s coded in an outdated language…”

“Alright, I’m going to head back in then. If we don’t get the jammer down, we’ll be in touch in another twenty dobashes,” Keith said, starting to move back towards the building entrance. Next to him, Kosmo was getting anxious, and Keith pushed his concern that Pidge—no, that his _teammates_ —were all separated aside. 

“Very well,” Coran replied crisply, “I’ll look for your signal again at 1743 local.”

“1743 local,” Keith confirmed, shutting off the link and turning back towards the building, frowning when he saw Hunk sprinting around the side of the building.

“— _mb!_ ” Hunk was screaming, arms flailing wildly. “It’s a _bomb!”_

Keith froze, feeling like the air had been punched out of his lungs before he pushed off, sprinting towards his teammate. _“What?”_

“The whole building is rigged!” Hunk screamed as they sprinted towards the door. “It’s gonna blow!”

“When?” Keith demanded, even as a low, percussive sound filled the air. The rumbling started immediately afterwards, and Keith only made another two strides before he was thrown to his knees. 

“Kosmo,” He gasped, throwing a hand out towards the door looming too far away. _“Find Pidge!”_

Kosmo didn’t even acknowledge the order, disappearing between one step and the next as Keith and Hunk struggled to regain their feet. 

“What about Allura?” Hunk shouted over the rumbling that continued, trying to push himself upright as the ground heaved under him. “Wasn’t she inside?”

Keith’s breath caught in his throat as he realized what he’d done. His mind raced.

“Pidge was— She was in the command center,” Keith replied. “If the place was rigged, it will fall first.”

Keith knew he wasn’t lying—he wasn’t even _wrong._

Digital information was the hardest to protect, and the defenses would be designed to make sure it was destroyed first, before the enemy could get their hands on it. The explosion would start in or near the command center and radiate outwards, so getting Pidge out would be the priority, since she was closest to (but hopefully not _in,_ please don’t let her be _in_ ) the epicenter. 

Allura, who had been at the opposite end of the building, should be safer and have a better chance of escaping unscathed.

_‘Unless,’_ Keith’s traitorous mind whispered, _‘She and Lance had already gone back inside.’_

Suddenly nauseated with the weight of his mistake, Keith shoved himself upright, taking two more unsteady steps just as Kosmo reappeared in front of him. He was crouched low to the ground, one paw extended to reach into a crevice in a pile of rubble he’d brought with him.

“Pidge!” Hunk lurched forward, hovering anxiously as the tremors died down. “Keith, help me get this off!”

The two worked together frantically, carefully shifting chunks of fallen stone off of their friend. Keith winced as the uncovered Pidge’s wrist, bent at an odd angle even through the protection of her glove.

“Thank God she was wearing her helmet,” Hunk muttered, tossing the final piece aside. “How does she look?”

“She’s…” Keith paused, swallowing back his terror at how _still_ she was to make himself actually assess her. Rationally. Clinically. Like he had been taught. “She’s unconscious. It looks like her armor protected her from the worst of it; no visible damage except her wrist. I think a piece hit her on the head, so we need to get that checked out, but she landed on her back, so I don’t think there’s any neck or spinal injuries. Possible organ damage, but I don’t have the knowledge to verify that.”

“Right.” Hunk nodded decisively. “Keith, you get her to Green and radio for backup. I’ll sweep around to the back, since that’s where Lance and I were going to meet up with Allura and look for a way in if they’re not there.”

“Right,” Keith mumbled, feeling adrift as he gathered his teammate into his arms. Had she always been so small? “Right, yeah, I’ll do that.”

“Good.” Hunk set a gentle hand on Keith’s shoulder. “I’ll meet up with you in a few.”

Kosmo stepped up, pressing against Keith’s leg and moving them to the interior of the green lion without prompting. Keith stepped to the back, carefully laying Pidge in the cargo hold. He wanted to remove her armor, to check her over for injuries and to _make_ her open her eyes, but he knew better. Instead he grabbed a few blankets, wadding them up to carefully elevate her feet and stabilize her head, then forced himself to leave her to step into the cockpit.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice came over the speakers with a crackle as the signals connected. “Is everything alright? Coran said—”

“We need help,” Keith croaked out, stopping and forcing himself to take a deep breath. “We need help,” he repeated. “The building was rigged with a bomb—more likely several—and something triggered the blast.”

“Holy—” Shiro’s voice shifted as he turned away from the microphone. “Curt, scramble the bus, we need to get to Voltron’s location ASAP. Keith? How many wounded?” 

“At least one,” Keith swallowed. “Hunk and I were outside when the bomb went off, but Pidge was still in the command center. Kosmo was able to get her out, but she’s unconscious. Possible organ injuries, at least one broken bone. Probable head injury, no obvious neck or spinal trauma.” 

Calm. Detached. Clinical. Just like he had been taught. No need to out himself as the emotionally compromised _failure_ of a leader he was—yet. He could confess to Shiro later, in private. 

“Allura and Lance are unaccounted for,” Keith forced himself to say. _Because Kosmo had gone after Pidge first._ “Hunk is going around the south side of the building towards the back to their last known location.”

“Good. Great,” Shiro responded. “Hopefully they’re holed up somewhere just waiting to be found. We’ve got a bus enroute to your location, ETA twenty minutes. Atlas will follow to reduce return time and to get Pidge to the infirmary ASAP.”

“Shiro.” Keith licked his lips, uncertain. He didn’t want to ask, but he couldn’t trust his own judgement. Not right now. Not with this. “What should I do?”

“Do?” Shiro asked, clearly taken aback by Keith’s hesitance. “What do you mean?”

“Should I go help Hunk, or stay here with Pidge?” Keith clarified.

“If Pidge is stable and not showing any signs of distress, then I would go help Hunk,” Shiro said after a pause. “Coran said now that you’re outside the jamming field, he can tap into her suit and monitor her vitals remotely, so we’ll have a head’s up if anything happens. The med team is headed to the hanger now, and _Atlas_ is already enroute to your location. Staying to fret won’t do you any good, but Hunk could probably use some help.”

“Right.” Keith blew out a gusty sigh. “Thanks, Shiro.” 

“No problem, Keith.” Shiro’s voice was warm and reassuring, fond and confident in a way Keith wasn’t sure he deserved at the moment. “Updated arrival time of fifteen minutes; see you then.”

“See you then,” Keith said softly, leaning back and flipping the comms off with a sigh. 

Squaring his shoulders, Keith looked back to where Kosmo had lay down next to Pidge, he hesitated. Kosmo would be a valuable asset in locating the others if they were missing, but… there was no guarantee he _would_ locate the others. He never had before, even when bribed, and Keith had nothing to motivate him now.

He would, however, stay with Pidge, and keep her safe. Or, if she were in danger, get her somewhere safe—or at least to Keith, if nothing else. Keith ran his tongue over his teeth as he turned the thought over, making sure it was the _right_ decision: balanced, logical, rational.

Keith sighed. There was nothing for it: even if it _was_ the best choice, his motives for making the decision were hopelessly flawed. 

“Kosmo.” His friend’s eyes were already on him, but twitching ears trained his way, showing that the wolf was paying attention. “Stay with Pidge. Keep her safe.”

Irrationally, Keith wanted to ask ‘ _Do you understand?’._ Instead, he straightened up, pressing a hand to the metal panel of the sentient robot, asking it to open up. 

As the mouth opened and the ramp lowered, Keith pressed in the assertion to allow the med team entry for the wounded pilot: that they were non-hostile and not a threat. There was a faint hum of acknowledgment at the back of his mind, the impression of _amusement_ and _knowledge_ , the crackle of _determination_.

Opening his eye, Keith looked around at the now-collapsed building, dust still settling around it like a shroud. Patting Green’s panel in brief thanks, Keith made himself set his injured teammate aside and hurried in the direction Hunk had gone.

Even if he was compromised, he was still the leader, and he had a job to do.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-18-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Not being able to sleep after a near-miss was always a thing. 

On the castle ship—before they were all used to the near-misses and almost-maybe’s, when sleepless nights were more common—they’d all gather in the lounge. It hadn’t been intentional at first; it had simply been somewhere to be when your bed was too confining, and the halls too empty. Then it became a Thing, with mutual comfort and reassurances, and falling asleep safe and with another’s steady presence nearby. As the close calls became more common and the team adapted, the communal gathering had happened less and less. The comforting piles of people turned into something they did only once in a while, when somebody had been a little _too_ close to dying, or a mission had hit a little too close to home.

Here aboard the Atlas, there was no place so secluded (or large enough) that they could gather that wasn’t also somebody else’s room. And Keith rather doubted this qualified as a ‘ _near-miss_ ’, when most of the team had (thankfully) been outside of the building.

Nearby, Kosmo whined, teleporting out of the room in a brief flash of light. He’d been popping in and out of the room periodically for the past few hours (which accounted for at least _some_ of Keith’s inability to sleep), but thankfully had _not_ attempted to remove Pidge from the medical bay. 

Keith sighed. No, this wasn’t a team crisis—this was 100% a _Keith_ problem.

Kosmo reappeared in the room, next to his bed. Keith frowned as the wolf nosed him, turning his head and squinting at his friend in the darkness. Kosmo nudged him again, grumbling as he attempted to drop something on the bed. Keith reached out, grasping it automatically, surprised at the feel of heavy cotton under his fingers.

“Lights, twenty-five percent,” he said, pushing himself upright to study what had been brought to him. He frowned down at the faded blue comforter, the familiar Earth constellations printed across its surface in a series of stars and connecting lines. Ursa major, ursa minor, aquarius… Keith blinked, and turned to stare at the second pillow, which he had procured and Pidge had put her favorite pillowcase on.

They matched. Kosmo had brought him Pidge’s blanket. Not the Garrison one, but the one that had been on her bed since she had been a child, that her mother had kept even after she had disappeared. That had survived the Galra invasion, and that Pidge had brought into space despite having no convenient way to wash it, since it couldn’t just go in with the rest of the ships linens and was too large to easily fit into the small machines designated for personal clothing.

Keith barked out a laugh. “Since you couldn’t bring Pidge, you brought the next best thing, huh?” The blanket probably smelled like her, after all. He reached out, scrubbing a hand over Kosmo’s head. “Or do you think she’d sleep better with her blanket, hm?”

Kosmo grumbled at him, lying his head on the mattress and staring up at him mournfully. Keith studied the blanket, not sure what to make of the gesture. On one hand, if Kosmo wanted Pidge to have the blanket, he could have just taken it to her. On the other, Kosmo would not be able to easily give it to her. Maybe he’d meant for Keith to have it; he had been upset since the blast, and even reassured of his team’s lack of life-threatening injuries, Keith hadn’t really felt better. Pidge was the one hurt, and Pidge was in the med bay, so since he couldn’t bring Pidge to Keith, Kosmo had brought her blanket instead.

Keith sighed, letting his head drop back to stare at the ceiling. Two in the morning was _far_ too early for philosophical thoughts about his wolf’s motivations.

“Okay,” he said to the wolf, straightening. “Alright. Yeah, let’s take Pidge her blanket.”

It didn’t take long to dress—he was already wearing a shirt, so it was just a matter of grabbing a pair of pants and slipping on his shoes before Keith was out the door and heading towards the medical section, blanket tucked under his arm and Kosmo trotting next to him. 

Despite Keith’s earlier panic, Pidge hadn’t been badly injured. She’d been awake, alert but disoriented and promising Kosmo ‘ _all the chicken’_ when the medical team had loaded her on the bus for transport back to the _Atlas’_ medical center. Her armor had managed to protect her from the worst of the damage, and her broken wrist had been easily treated, but concussion she was suffering from led the doctor to insist that she spent the night in the med bay for continued observation.

They’d been lucky, amazingly so, that nobody else had been hurt. The charges had been laid in such a way that the building had collapsed, rather than exploding outwards. 

Allura had finished the initial sweep before meeting up with Lance outside the back of the building; the two of them had decided to wait for Hunk (who had gotten distracted with what he’d eventually recognized as part of the casing for a charge that had fallen out of position), so they hadn’t been inside when the bomb had detonated, and had managed to find adequate cover to shield them from any flying debris. Pidge had been the only one inside the building, and Kosmo’s unique ability had saved her from any further or more serious harm.

Of course, they’d lost anything that might have been inside the building, and Pidge hadn’t finished decrypting the key for the data she’d sent (which was going to mean a lot more work for the linguists), but Keith considered that a small price to pay for the safety of his team. Really, considering what _could_ have gone wrong, or had in the past, this was hardly a blip on the radar.

Keith stepped out of the lift, turning to the short hallway for the medical section, pausing only to scan his Garrison ID card for entry and to nod to the person sitting in the reception area. One of the perks of being famous, he supposed—everyone knew who he was and had probably made assumptions about why he was there, so nobody seemed inclined to stop question him. 

Keith paused briefly outside of the room, glancing at the curtained window before slowly easing the door open and poking his head in. Pidge was fast asleep, curled on her side against the metal bed bars, hospital linens pulled up under her chin while her free hand stretched across the small space. 

Probably searching for a source of heat, Keith thought in amusement. Pidge was the type who piled six blankets on the bed, and couldn’t sleep if her feet were cold. He should know; he’s woken up to her sleepily pressing frigid soles against his calves often enough. He hated it as much as he loved the way her fingers would curl against his back, loosely tangling in his his shirt or pressing against bare skin as she snuggled into him for warmth.

Cringing at his own thoughts, Keith hastily moved forward, settling the blanket over her and making sure to tuck it in between her back and the cold bars. Briefly, he entertained the idea of trying to get Kosmo to stay with her, but figured the nurse probably wouldn’t appreciate a giant wolf in bed with their patient.

“What are you doing?”

Keith jumped, spinning to face the door, feeling his face heat as he spied Shiro standing in the doorway.

“Nothing!” Shiro only raised his brow, and Keith felt like he was twelve again. “Just… you know.” He said weakly, gesturing at the blanket. “Um, Pidge, she doesn’t sleep well...that is, I thought she might...be cold?” Keith cringed at his own stammering.

“Uh-huh,” Shiro said dryly, lips tugging upwards. “I guess I do. C’mon.”

Keith turned to look at Kosmo, who was standing at the end of the bed.

“Hey,” he said softly, gesturing Kosmo to him when the wolf turned to regard him. Kosmo blinked at him, then turned his head to glance back at Pidge.

“Hey,” Keith hissed, when Kosmo showed no signs of moving. _“Come on._ ”

In response, Kosmo sat down, dropping his giant head onto the covers with a grumble.

“She can’t give you chicken right now,” Keith scolded the wolf, who sighed and stood up.

Meekly, Keith followed Shiro out of the room and into the hallway. Kosmo padded next to him, and Keith gratefully buried his fingers in the wolf’s thick scruff, forcing himself to nod genially to the night staff as they passed by.

“So, you and Pidge, huh?” Shiro said, as the lift doors closed behind them.

Keith cringed. “No.”

“No?” Shiro half-turned to look at him, frowning.

_“No,”_ Keith said firmly, gritting his teeth. “We’re not like that, I swear.”

Shiro paused, sliding Keith a glance out of the corner of his eye, which Keith firmly ignored. “Keith.”

Keith was absolutely certain that the tone—some mishmash of affectionate and scolding and exasperated and _amused_ —was one Shiro had perfected just for him, to let him know when he wasn’t buying Keith’s shit and wanted an explanation. 

“I know you two aren’t like that,” Shiro sighed. “But it seems like...that may have changed?”

“It hasn’t,” Keith bit out. “And it won’t. Don’t worry, _Commander._ ”

Shiro frowned but didn’t speak for the rest of the journey. Keith remained stubbornly silent as the lift ascended to the deck with the crew quarters, however, when he tried to move towards the hall to the single officer’s quarters, Shiro’s arm shot after him, metal hand closing around his bicep and dragging him down the hall to the common rooms.

“Shiro—”

Shiro ignored him, tugging him down the senior officer’s hall and into the deserted common area, where he was unceremoniously shoved towards the circle of couches in front of the picture window. 

“Keith,” Shiro repeated, when Keith obstinately refused to look him in the eye, “you haven’t Commander’d me since before I got the rank, and you _know_ I would never come at you like that. Now, I’m asking you as your _friend,_ what’s wrong?”

Keith chewed on his tongue for a while. “I’m compromised,” he finally blurted out.

“You’re what?” Shiro’s eyes widened.

“Not, like, I have an alien in my brain or anything,” Keith said uncomfortably, “I’m just...I screwed up, today.”

“...How did you do that?” Shiro asked, clearly reviewing the day’s events mentally. “I mean, if it was that decision to go for the starboard side of the cruiser instead of port, that’s really negligible—”

“Not that,” Keith fiddled with a throw pillow. “With Pidge. I sent Kosmo after her.”

“Which was a good thing,” Shiro said slowly.

“I sent Kosmo after her _first,_ ” Keith frowned when Shiro continued to stare at him uncomprehendingly. “And I did it for the wrong reasons.”

Shiro blinked. “Keith,” he said slowly, “I saw the mission report, and I was there for the debriefing. You made the right call, and your reasoning was sound. The admirals agreed, too… why do you think you made the wrong call?”

“Well, yeah, I made the right call, and there were good reasons for it, but I’m saying that I lied, kind of.” Keith shrugged. “I didn’t think of Pidge being in the command center or how the bombs were rigged until _after_. I just...sent Kosmo after her.”

“Because you wanted her safe,” Shiro said, comprehension dawning on his features. 

“I...yeah.” Keith blew out a sigh, ruffling his bangs. “I did. So I sent Kosmo after her _first_ , and worried about Lance and Allura after.”

“Alright, I can see why you’re concerned,” Shiro said. “Is that why you asked me what to do when you called in?”

“Yeah,” Keith said quietly. “I couldn’t trust my own judgement: I was too invested, _emotionally_ , to make the best decision.”

Shiro studied him intently, brow furrowing. “This...isn’t a new thing, is it? Have you discussed how you feel with Pidge?”

“No.” Keith curled his fingers into the pillow. “I know how bad it is: we’re on the same team, she’s technically under my command.” He paused, then said in a rush, “It’s not right.”

“Well,” Shiro mused. “Technically, you’re not wrong. If this were a normal military operation, it would be against Garrison regulations to date somebody who was in your chain of command, or who could distract you and persuade you to make potentially critical mistakes.”

Keith cringed. “I almost did, today.”

“I don’t think so,” Shiro shook his head. “You may have made a knee-jerk decision, but it turned out to be the right one.”

“But what if it hadn’t been?” Keith insisted. 

It was not just what had happened which bothered him, but what could have happened. All the things that had been put to chance on his once poorly made decision. Luck was the only thing that had saved them this time, and Keith doubted it would be so easy to come by a second time.

“If it had been the _wrong_ one, then you know Hunk would have called you out on it, and afterwards, when you were uncertain of what to do, you asked for help.” Shiro shook his head. “You didn’t just make the decision you wanted to.”

“But I might in the future,” Keith felt obligated to point out. “And you already confirmed that how I feel is wrong!”

“I never said how you feel is wrong; I said that romantic entanglements within a _normal_ chain of command can be bad, and is usually avoided for good reason,” Shiro argued. “but, Keith...Voltron _isn’t_ a normal military command.”

“Yeah,” Keith glared at the pillow in his hands, “it’s _worse._ Because it’s not only essential, but also because if we don’t all work together it won’t work at all. And how can we work together if the others can’t trust me to make the right decisions? Because I lo- _care_ about one of the other team members.”

“I don’t think you’re giving your friends enough credit,” Shiro replied, pointedly ignoring his almost-misstep. “Or yourself, either. I trust you not to abuse your position for your own gain, and even if you don’t trust yourself, you should trust your _team_ to not let you make bad decisions. I mean, do you really see Lance keeping quiet if he thinks you’ve made a bad call?”

“I can’t see Lance shutting up, _period._ Even if you gagged him, he’d still make his thoughts known.” Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’re not wrong,” Shiro said wryly. “So, is that what’s been eating at you? That you thought you were… _‘compromised_ ’ as team leader because you have feelings for Pidge?”

“Pretty much,” Keith admitted. “But it also just wouldn’t be right to put myself on her like that. She doesn’t see me like that, and even if she did, what if it didn’t work out? Then we’d be right back to Voltron not working because of _my_ screw-up.”

“I think you’re both adult enough to work together, even if you didn’t work out romantically,” Shiro said reasonably. “As for the other...well, I guess you just need to talk to Pidge now, don’t you?”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-19-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Keith jerked upright out of his reverie, swiveling in his seat to stare at Pidge. “How did you get in here?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Really?” she asked, half-turning to gesture at Kosmo, who’s tail wagged hesitantly.

“Pidge,” Keith said, “I’m _in space._ This should be a little outside Kosmo’s reach!”

Or at least it had been. Keith had chosen to leave the _Atlas_ specifically because he hadn’t wanted to be tracked down, least of all by the woman in question, who was still frowning at him disapprovingly.

“Yeah, I’m pretty impressed that you came all the way out here to avoid me, too,” Pidge replied. Keith could see that she was wearing her Paladin armor, same as him, her bayard sitting easily on her hip as she strode into the cockpit, eyebrow arched disapprovingly. “Especially the bit where you basically left in the middle of the night. That’s dedication.”

A section of the console blacked out, controls disappearing and offering a blank space. Pidge grinned, and the faint aura of menace dispersed as she leaned back against it with a grateful pat.

_‘Traitor,’_ Keith thought, and resisted the urge to pout as the sentient Lion gave the impression of rolling its eyes in response. He wondered, briefly, if the lion had always been this sassy, or if it was more a result of being mind-melded with Shiro for so long. (He’d always meant to ask, but had never quite gotten around to it, for one reason or another.)

“Keith,” Pidge said, drawing his attention back to the present, “why are you avoiding me?”

Keith opened his mouth in a knee-jerk attempt to deny her words, but something of his thoughts must have shown on his face.

“Don’t say that you aren’t!” Pidge snapped, scowling. “I hardly see you anymore unless it’s in meetings, where you sit as far away as you can, or at training, where you work across the room. I don’t even see you in the morning—and considering we sleep in the same room, that’s quite the feat!”

“Well, not really,” Keith interjected, trying for some levity, “since you’re sleeping and all.”

“You leave before I wake up,” Pidge said flatly. “Which means you have to be up before the alarm, climb over me, get dressed and out the door without rousing me.”

“You sleep like a rock,” Keith pointed out. “It’s not that hard.”

“And you’re a damn ninja apparently, but that’s not the point: why are you doing it?” Pidge asked plaintively, hurt settling across her features.

Keith opened his mouth, then bit his lip _’It’s not you, it’s me,’_ was probably the wrong thing to say here...even if it was entirely appropriate. Not that he had a lot of experience with relationships, or break-ups, but he’d seen enough of them fall apart to know that there were somethings you just didn’t say if you wanted to come out intact. And as innocent as the phase sounded, Keith had seen enough television to know that this one was one of them.

“I’m just...trying to work through some things,” he mumbled at last, averting his gaze to resume staring out the window.

“So… ‘ _It’s not you, it’s me,_ ’” Pidge mocked. Keith whirled, mouth already open to retort, but paused at the sight of Pidge with her head bowed, staring resolutely at her boots, lips pressed together into a thin line.

“It _is_ me. Really! Nothing is your fault,” Keith insisted. “But I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“I…” Pidge swallowed, lifting her head but not quite meeting his eyes. “...Fine. If you say so. But whatever you’re upset about has to do with me, and I can’t fix it if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“This isn’t something you can fix, Pidge,” Keith said quietly. 

“Not if I don’t know what the problem is,” Pidge retorted, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keith rolled his eyes. “Pidge.”

“Keith,” Pidge shot back.

“It’s really not your fault,” Keith said, shaking his head. “I promise.”

“But it has something to do with me,” Pidge retorted. “Was it...because I triggered the bomb, back on RP4?”

“Of course not!” Keith snorted. “Even the network nerds said the code for the detonation was too deeply buried for you to have seen it—they had to comb through the code for over two hours before they found the trigger. You had fifteen minutes.”

“But my negligence in sending the files is what triggered the explosion,” Pidge argued. “If I hadn’t done that, if I had waited for a team to come help me sort through it, or if I’d simply left a decryption program running and gone to help with the sweep, the bomb wouldn’t have gone off. Who knows what all we lost because I blew up the building?”

Keith blinked. “You’ve...been thinking about this.”

“Of course I have!” Pidge frowned. “My best friend disappeared without a word and started actively avoiding me for a week, _of course_ I started looking for what I did.”

“Ah…” Keith swallowed. “Well, those are all good points, but you’re being kind of unfair to yourself. We’ve already said there was no way you could have found that code in the time you had, and we were under pressure to get the compound cleared so we could get back to the cleanup.”

“So,” Pidge bit her lip, “...you’re not mad at me?”  
  
“Pidge, no.” Keith shook his head. “Not at all.”

“Then why won’t you talk to me?” Pidge burst out, her frustration exploding with the words. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you’re avoiding _me_ , and the only other thing I can think of is you’re sick of me being with you all the time.”

“What?” Keith blurted out, heart in his throat.

“We practically live together,” Pidge’s crossed her arms, gaze sliding away from his, “and that’s got to be...interfering with things, right? Hard to bring a girl—or guy—back to your room when you know your dog is gonna dump your teammate into bed at 0200 whether you like it or not. And it’s not like you can even _meet_ anyone, because everyone thinks we’re together.”

“Pidge—”

“I know you had a few, uh, _partners_ , in the Blade,” Pidge said to her shoes, “and now they all think we’re together, because your mom and Kolivan are such damn gossips—”

“They—” Keith started, then stared. “What?” he asked.

“Gossip.” Pidge pursed her lips at him. “Seriously, my mom talks to your mom, Shiro talks to Kolivan… Honestly, the Blade of Marmora? They gossip like old ladies. I’m waiting for a knitting circle to start.”

Keith tried to picture his mother—or Kolivan—knitting. Then pictured what they would most likely actually do with the knitting needles, and shivered. “That’s a _terrible_ idea—” 

“Yeah, but they already did it, so even if you wanted to, you’d probably get judgy eyes for flirting with anyone there.” Pidge scuffed her toe along the floor. “And of course _Matt_ bitched to all of his Coalition buddies about me sleeping in your room, and they told their friends. I’m pretty sure that Krenuk in Comms thinks I’m pregnant with triplets or something—”

“Krenuk thinks _what?_ ” 

“She keeps looking at my stomach every time I have to call! Like, she does thing where she kind of stands up in her seat and tries to look down at me? It’s really weird; she keeps asking about nausea, and things like how common multiples are in human births, so either she’s getting some wild stories or Matt has some explaining to do,” Pidge explained, looking peeved. “I’ve started trying to call when she’s off shift if I need help from someone on that side.”

Keith was fairly certain he wouldn’t be picking his jaw up off the floor anytime soon. How had this gone over his head? No wonder everyone was convinced they were really sleeping together. “That’s—”

“So, yeah, if you’re looking for someone over in the Coalition, you’re probably going to have to convince them we don’t have kids, which will be awkward, but you can totally blame Matt for being a loud, nosey butt-face.” Pidge huffed. 

Keith felt feeling his lips twitch up despite his horror. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m not looking for a... partner,” he said faintly. 

“Oh. Well. That’s... good,” Pidge said awkwardly. “Because you’re pretty much out of luck between the rumor mill, and your dog dumping me in your bed. But if you were, you know, I… I don’t know what I would do, actually.”

Keith paused. “You don’t?”

“...No. I mean, logically, I guess I would spend more time with Hunk—yay, Team Punk!—or train with Axca, or something. But...you’re my best friend. I wake up with you, we eat together, we train together, we sleep together. We make fun of stupid people and keep each other awake during meetings, and you let me ramble about my projects and make sure I eat,” Pidge sighed. “I guess I could do all of those things with someone else, or even by myself but... none of those people are _you_.”

Keith’s heart stuttered, and he bit his lip. 

“You’re my best friend, too,” he murmured. “I like spending time with you, and training with you. You make me laugh, and you bring me caffeine, and I _like_ you, and it scares me.”

Pidge glanced at him sharply. “What?”

There was a pause, and Keith realised too late what he had said. He briefly wondered if Black would just eject him into space and save him the trouble of trying to pull his foot out of his mouth. 

The hum of amusement in the back of his mind told him that no, his lion would not be so obliging. He would just have to face up to his diminutive teammate like a man (Keith was absolutely certain that Black had learned that particular phrase from Lance, somehow). 

“I like you,” Keith said, taking a deep breath and bracing for her anger. “As more than a friend and those feelings are...clouding my judgement. I made a call the other day because I put your welfare above the others.”

Pidge’s brow furrowed. “When—?”

“On RP4,” Keith explained quietly. “When the bomb went off, I sent Kosmo after you first, before I even thought about Allura or Lance being in the building, too.”

Keith watched Pidge turn that over in her mind. “The Empire always rig their bombs to start the blast in the most vulnerable areas,” she said slowly, lips pursing as she thought. “And typically that’s the command center, where intel is housed. Sometimes other places, depending on what the facility is designed for, but generally the data centers are the weakest point.”

Keith nodded. “It turned out to be the right decision; we lucked out because Allura and Lance were outside of the building, but when I made the call, that wasn’t what I was thinking about. I made it because _you_ were in danger, and I was scared.”

Pidge chewed her bottom lip pensively. “You’re worried that you’ll make calls like that in the future,” she said cautiously, “because you like me. Romantically.”

“Yeah,” Keith blew out a gusty sigh, relaxing slightly. Pidge wasn’t obviously upset with him, like he had feared she would be, and that was reassuring.

“Shiro said he spoke to you about whatever was going on,” Pidge pursed her lips and looked at him expectantly. “So? What did he say?”

“He said to trust my team to keep me in line,” Keith said. “To trust them to help me make good decisions, if I didn’t feel like I could trust myself. Normal military protocol says that members in the same chain of command—especially where one holds rank over the other—should not be involved in romantic relationships: they should either request a transfer or end the liaison, but—” 

“—Voltron isn’t exactly standard military,” Pidge nodded, understanding. “Technically you are our leader, but we’ve never been a normal chain of command. The rules don’t apply like they do for the Garrison.”

“More guildlines than hard-and-fast, but...” Keith wagged his hand back and forth a little bit. “...Eh.” 

“You’re still concerned.” Pidge hummed. “Okay, what else?”

“What?” Keith asked blankly. _Wasn’t that enough?_

“What else is bothering you?” Pidge asked, shoving her glasses up her nose briskly. “Shiro already talked to you about this, and you _always_ listen to him, so this can’t be the only thing that’s bothering you.”

“Isn’t it _enough?_ ” Keith asked, feeling exasperated. “I already proved that I can’t be trusted to put the team ahead of myself.”

“I disagree. I read the report, too. Hunk was with you when the bomb went off.” Pidge shook her head. “Do you really think he would have stayed quiet if he thought you’d made the wrong call?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Keith replied, but Pidge was already shaking her head again.

“Maybe once upon a time that would have been the case,” she said. “When we were younger, or newer, or whatever, Hunk could be really timid. But even if he’s still _cautious_ , he’s secure enough around us to question us when he feels like we need it. And he knows you would listen to him—to _any_ of us, if we had a concern. We all do, and that’s part of what’s made you a good leader: you listen to your team, and I think you know that.”

“But—”

“Also, Kosmo has kind of proven that there’s very few people he will reliably transport,” Pidge added dryly, pointing at the wolf in question, who was lounging across the back of lion comfortably. “Even if you had wanted to send him after Allura, or Lance, there’s absolutely no guarantee he’d actually have _gone._ ” 

“He likes you,” Keith said quietly.

“I like him, too,” Pidge replied, a little smile on her lips as she tilted her head in his direction knowingly. “Not the least because he brings me my blanket when I’m in the hospital.”

Keith flushed under her amused gaze, and Pidge laughed softly before she straightened back up.

“So, we’ve established that Shiro handled your professional concerns, and you know your team will call out on if they think you’re making the wrong choice on anything, so...what else is bothering you?” Pidge asked. 

“Just...the normal stuff, I guess.” Keith blew out a sigh, fidgeting a little under the calm, but intense scrutiny in her eyes. “I don’t want to force my emotions on you and make things awkward if you don’t feel the same—especially since we effectively share a room, you know, with the teleporting busy-body wolf and all. Also, what would we do if we did, um, and it didn’t work out?” he asked, spreading his glove hands, shrugging. “Voltron is kind of essential to the war effort, and we have to work together to make it work. There’s no substitute Paladin.”

Pidge tilted her head. “Well, I kind of _do_ feel the same, so that’s one worry handled.” 

“Yes and no,” Keith mumbled, not sure what to do with the admission, but feeling something loosen in his chest at the knowledge. Pidge watched him, eyes soft and understanding.

“There’s not really an answer,” Pidge said gently. “You just have to trust me. Trust _us._ ”

“I do,” Keith grimaced. “It’s just a lot harder to trust _myself._ I don’t… I don’t know how to _do_ this.”

“Me neither,” Pidge shrugged and offered him a self-deprecating smile. “Even before...all this, I wasn’t exactly beating them off with sticks. Too short, too skinny, too nerdy. And don’t get me wrong—I don’t mind who I am. But I also know I’m not the...typically attractive type.”

Keith snorted. “Yeah, well, join the club. Nobody wanted the scrawny charity case with a bad attitude either. And I think you’re plenty attractive.” He admitted in a rush, glancing at her shyly.

Pidge laughed, eyeing him appreciatively. “Well, you’re not scrawny any more! Also, very handsome.”

“And the skinny nerd girl saved the universe,” Keith grinned. “Now they’re all jealous, because they could have been with a hero.”

“We are pretty awesome, aren’t we?” Pidge smirked. 

“Yeah, we are,” Keith agreed, sobering slightly. “But awesome doesn’t answer my questions.”

“True enough,” Pidge sighed, leaning back against the darkened console pensively. “And there’s no easy answer. I can’t give you any kind of guarantees. But, I can say that relationships are a lot of work, and require a lot of trust, and communication. And we can do that.”

Keith watched her silently, unsure of what he was supposed to say.

“I trust you,” Pidge said seriously, pushing off the dash and standing up. “With my life, obviously, but beyond that. I trust you to care for our team, and to do your best for us.”

“I know you do,” Keith admitted. And he did: that trust was evident every time they formed Voltron, it flowed between the five of them like a living thing. Affection was there, love even. The bond between them all became stronger the longer they were together, growing and shifting, tangible and real and unique to each of them. It had become integral in a way Keith couldn’t put words to, and transcended their time as Voltron, bleeding into their daily lives.

“And you trust me, too,” Pidge said. “Obviously, we could probably be better at communicating, but I think it’s something that will come with time.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Keith asked, head tilting slightly to look up at her. The chair was high enough, and Pidge was short enough, that he didn’t have to crane his neck much. Still, he wanted to see her expression clearly, and watch her incredible mind work as she sorted out the best answer.

“If it doesn’t work,” Pidge said carefully, “then I _trust_ that we’ll have given it our best effort, and that even if we don’t work as a romantic couple, we’ll still be friends. And I’ll still trust you to take care of me, and not try to hurt me. The question is… Can you trust me to do the same?”

He could, he realized. He didn’t even have to think about it: he had seen for himself the dedication Pidge put into everything she committed to. He could trust her to apply that same, incredible dedication to _them_ as well. Even when he had been in the red lion, they had always worked well together: her logic countering his emotional response, her pragmatism a foil for his impulsiveness.

Was it any wonder, he thought faintly, that he’d fallen for her?

Helpless to stop himself, Keith reached up, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her down the short distance to press their lips together. Pidge froze, then sighed, relaxing into the kiss and tilting her head to seal their mouths together, her hand coming up, glove sliding along his jaw as her lips moved against his. Keith briefly regretted the gloves, but realized that there would be more, many more, opportunities like this. He was grinning, nearly giddy, by the time the parted, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against hers as she smiled back at him. 

“I can,” he said confidently. “I already do.”

  
  


-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-BONUS-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Hey, Pidge?” Keith asked, staring up at the dark ceiling. Next to him, Pidge was curled up on her side, probably halfway dozing. Their armor was stacked neatly in the corner, and Kosmo was settled down on his bed nearby.

“Yeah?” Pidge asked, voice thick with exhaustion as she wiggled deeper under the blanket. They’d finally made it back to the the _Atlas_ sometime after one, and even if they didn’t have PT in the morning, Keith knew the team would be looking for them if they didn’t show up by nine. Really, they should be sleeping, but something Pidge had said earlier was still bugging him, having coalesced from a vague niggling to a concrete question in his mind.

“Earlier, you said something about Kosmo dumping you into my bed at 0200,” Keith said. Next to him, Pidge stilled. “Did you mean anything by that, or was that just anecdotal?”

Next to him, Pidge huffed out a laugh, her warm breath ghosting over his shoulder as she lowered the blanket a bit. “Oh, no, that wasn’t anecdotal. I meant it: if I wasn’t in here by 0200, Kosmo would come find me and bring me here.”

“Wait, what?” Keith turned to study her in shock. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” Pidge said, sounding more awake and amused. “You dog has a _schedule._ ”

“Now way.”

“I swear,” Pidge giggled. “It’s kind of funny now, but in the beginning it was really aggravating.”

“I…” Keith shook his head. “What?”

“Okay,” Pidge rolled onto her back and cleared her throat, “so, when I first started waking up in your room and all, I was trying to make a shield to stop Kosmo, right?”

“Right,” Keith nodded, despite Pidge probably not seeing the gesture. “It didn’t work out.”

“Not for lack of trying,” Pidge grumbled. “But, anyway, I was trying to figure out _why_ he kept bringing me here, and if I could avoid him, and so on. Under what conditions would he bring me here, could I get him to leave me? And once I was here, could I leave?”

“I feel kind of stupid for not thinking to ask these kind of questions,” Keith admitted. “But also not really surprised that you were performing science experiments about this.”

“When you have a crush on a guy who doesn’t like you back, but his _teleporting space wolf_ keeps dumping you in his bed, you kind of try to figure out a way around it,” Pidge informed him crisply. “To preserve your dignity, if nothing else.”

“Well, problem handled, he likes you back,” Keith replied. “So? What happened?”

“I figured out that if there’s a really strong scent involved and Kosmo can’t smell me, then he has a lot harder time finding me,” Pidge said. “And that if I could evade him until 0230, then he would usually give up and let me be. The other times I think he just fell asleep, maybe, and didn’t wake up, but I haven’t really had the opportunity to test that.”

“So, basically, anytime I woke up on my own in the past...what? Three months? Was because you either managed to evade Kosmo or because he just didn’t wake up to go fetch you. Or because he woke you up moving you and you just left on your own, I guess,” Keith mused aloud.

Pidge snorted. “Um, no. If I tried to leave, Kosmo would teleport me back.”

“What?” Keith laughed.

“Yeah,” Pidge said. “I couldn’t get out the door without waking him up, and once it closed, he would appear outside of it and teleport me back in.”

“Oh my god,” Keith ran a hand over his face, torn between exasperation and amusement. He wanted to laugh (it _was_ kind of funny), but he also thought Pidge might kill him if he did.

“I got into a fight with him about it, once,” Pidge snorted. “Curtis laughed his ass off.”

“Who? And why,” Keith waved his hand aimlessly, fighting his smile. 

“He’s one of the navigation officers who works up on the bridge,” Pidge explained. “You know, Shiro’s friend? He was out in the hall—I have no idea why—one of the nights I got into it with Kosmo. He just stood there outside the door, watching me come out, get a few steps down the hall, and only to have Kosmo appear and snatch me back. That asshole didn’t even _try_ to help me, he just stood there and laughing as I kept trying to run away from a wolf who didn’t want me to leave.”

Keith choked. “I’m...sorry? I feel like I should be sorry, but this is pretty funny.”

“Oh, fine, go ahead and laugh,” Pidge sighed, but Keith heard the amusement in her tone as he started laughing. “Curt was in _tears,_ he was laughing so hard. And even if he’s probably the reason that Shiro believes me about us not being in a relationship—which was totally true at the time—he’s still an asshole. I can see what Shiro sees in him.”

Keith was so caught up in imagining a frustrated Pidge trying to outrun Kosmo that the words took a moment to register. “What?”

“I can see what Shiro sees in him?” Pidge repeated slowly. “Not that I like him or anything—pretty obviously, thanks, but I can see why they’re together. That’s exactly the same thing Shiro would have done.”

Keith felt his jaw go slack. “They’re _what?_ ”

Pidge paused. “...You didn’t know that? Seriously? They’re the most obvious—oh, for crying out loud, no wonder you didn’t see my pathetic and obvious crush on you; you’re _oblivious!_ ”

“Shiro has a boyfriend?” Keith asked dumbly. “And what do you mean, _your_ pathetic and obvious’ crush? How long have you liked me?”

Keith felt the faint tremors of Pidge shaking with repressed laughter as she rolled over and pulled the covers up to her chin. “I’ll never tell. Now go to sleep.”

“Pidge!”


End file.
